Family Ties
by Magali1
Summary: COMPLETE; A face from Tim's past meets up with him, when he least expects it, bringing some significant changes; meanwhile, Lyla is at a crossroads with what she wants out of life.
1. Awkward

**A/N:**I'm going to try to do this where I start posting a story before it's more than 50% complete, so the updates will not be as frequent as most of my other fics, but this is one I've kind of wanted to write for awhile. We'll see. It takes place about two years after the series finale. Enjoy! :)

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**Chapter 1: Awkward**

There was a car following him.

He'd only just noticed, but now that Tim was peering through his rearview mirror at the dark blue sedan, he realized he'd seen it here and there throughout the last couple of weeks. In fact, he'd seen it driving by his house the other morning. Weird.

He frowned, turning his truck into a parking lot, pausing and watching the car slow before accelerating away.

That was odd.

He reached for his phone, sitting in the cupholder of his new truck, but he set it back down a second later. Yeah, weird, but not worth telling anyone else about. He raked his fingers through his hair, draping his wrist over the steering wheel, taking a couple of breaths before he put the truck back into gear, turning around and following after the car.

Maybe it was someone from jail, not that he'd made a few friends in there. Just a couple guys who weren't all bad, like himself. He figured they'd just come out and say it was them, why follow? He hadn't made any enemies, at least that he was aware of.

Who would be following me, he wondered, pulling the truck into the parking lot of Buddy's a few minutes later. He climbed out of the truck, closing it, his hand on the door.

Someone was watching him.

What now?

All I am trying to do is go through my day and now someone is following me. Geez. He turned quickly, leaning against the truck, his breath slowly releasing from his chest; hell, he didn't realize he'd been holding it in.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Damnit Garrity.

He ignored her presence, reaching into the truck and removing his Buddy's t-shirt. God, he hated working at the bar, but right now it was a little extra cash in his pocket until he could take the contractor test, which right now he just didn't have time, money, or energy to take.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glance away when he took off his flannel shirt, tugging the t-shirt on over his chest. He smiled slightly. "You've seen more of me without other things than my shirt, Lyla."

Her cheeks tinged pink. Yeah, it wasn't getting any easier with them.

A year ago she came back for Christmas, for the first time since she left that one weekend freshman year, and each and every time they ended up doing this weird little dance around each other, smiling and laughing and trying to talk or get a drink, but it always ended with her walking away and him drinking a little more than usual after she left.

Right now he wasn't really in the mood. It was the beginning of summer; he wondered if she was going to hang around for a bit, last he heard from Buddy she was going to start school in Texas, graduate school or some such thing.

Why did people want to keep going back to school? He figured the thirteen years he spent in the Dillon Public Education system was enough or him. Then there were people like her that just kept going. Tyra was doing the same thing, except she'd up and left for California a couple weeks ago. The same day Lyla got back, that's when she left.

He hadn't said goodbye to her. She hadn't bothered to call.

Just something else he'd screwed up.

He closed the door, walking away from the truck towards the back door of Buddy's. "So what's up? You gonna' hang around tonight?" Now and then when she returned she helped out a bit with Buddy's paperwork and deliveries, occasionally waitressing, just for some extra cash.

Or maybe to hang around him, he wasn't sure.

Lyla shrugged her slim shoulder, a lock of her hair falling back from her shoulder when she moved; her thumbs looped in her back belt-loops, stepping by him into the narrow hallway. She paused, glancing down at their feet and back up. Her breath caught in her throat. "Um, excuse me. Sorry."

Good Lord, are we going to do this now? He nodded, waiting for her to step by before he pushed his fingers back through his hair, releasing a long breath. Tim wasn't sure he could keep doing this, he really wasn't sure at all. It just kept getting worse between them.

One day that was going to bubble over and to be honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to stop whatever might happen, whether it be for good or bad. Although he was pretty sure it would be for bad.

He emerged behind the bar, reaching underneath for the timesheet, writing down what time he just came in, glancing at Angela, who was working the morning and afternoon shifts now that she and Buddy were back to being nicey-nice with each other.

Angela shot him a glare, her eyes narrowing, not saying a word. Oh, you're still mad at me for Tyra, sure, sure, he thought, sighing. Figured. "Angela," he greeted her.

"Timothy."

Yeah, she was still mad. It wasn't me! I didn't do it, Tyra was the one who wanted to stick around! Besides, in case you haven't noticed, she's not here anymore! Tim felt like yelling. He kept his mouth closed, following Angela's dark glare at Lyla, who was wiping down tables. Oh, yeah, that's why she was mad.

He tossed is hair out of his eyes. "How's Tyra doing?" Maybe he could at least ask that, seeing as Tyra hadn't spoken to him in a month.

"She's fine, she's got her apartment in California."

"Good."

"She's not planning on coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas Tim."

Yeah, that's not my fault, he told himself, focusing on those words for a second. As much as he figured it might be.

Even so, it was June, she still had six months to change her mind.

He sighed, reaching down for a bin of glasses that needed drying off. "Have a nice day Angela," he decided to say, walking by her to the other side of the bar, grabbing a rag and started to stack them until more people came in after work started ending around Dillon.

The bar was doing a pretty good business, he'd even heard Buddy talking with investors on expanding it beyond East Dillon and into regular old Dillon. Then there was the conversations he'd been having with Ray, to merge with Ray's Barbeque.

He glanced back at Lyla, who was fiddling with drink menus, cleaning them off and setting them back down on the small tables scattered around the dance floor. How long are you going to stay?

Not that it mattered, just about everyone left him.

So it wouldn't be that big of a deal when she finally decided to move on.

"Tim!"

He glanced over his shoulder, Buddy leaning out of the office. "What?"

"Come help me with inventory, Lyla can bartend, Lyla, sweetheart, can you take over for the next couple hours?"

Lyla nodded, straightening up from where she'd been leaning over a table. She tugged down the hem of her black t-shirt with "Buddy's" stretched across it. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great, come on Tim."

Inventory, ugh, he hated inventory. It meant counting just about every single bottle of booze. He usually walked out of that storeroom with a desire never to have another drink again. Until a couple hours later.

He went back into the room with Buddy, taking one of the sheets. "We just did inventory Mr. Garrity."

"Well I just want to make sure, now that Angela's getting mad at me."

He rolled his eyes. Angela wouldn't steal. Angela would just come back in one day and trash Buddy's office, like she did a few months ago when they broke up again. He heard music start up from the main bar area and a few more voices. It would start to get busy. He nodded towards the door. "You can go out there, I'm fine here."

Buddy nodded, patting his shoulder. "I'll do just that, you know it's nice that you and Lyla are getting on as friends."

Uh-oh, there was that warning voice. Tim just plastered a fake smile on his lips. "Yes, friends. That's us."

"Lyla is going to be starting medical school, Timothy. That's a very long time. She's going to be very busy, she'll need to be studying. She cannot be distracted."

I get it Mr. Garrity. I get it. He didn't say anything, his lips pursed, waiting for Buddy to leave before he muttered. "Yeah, don't think she's interested in staying again." He also wasn't interested in asking her again.

He dropped the clipboard with the inventory sheets on it to the floor, reaching for one of the boxes, moving it out of the way to start in the back corner.

A few hours later, he emerged from the storeroom, dusty and a bit sore from having to keep moving the damn boxes of beer, wine, and other assorted liquor around. He stepped behind the bar, reaching for a glass and the spray of water, getting himself something to drink.

He tilted his head back to take a sip, catching sight of a woman speaking with Lyla, at a table near the door. He frowned, setting the water down to the bar. That woman looked familiar.

All he could see was a profile. Dark hair hung around her face, straight to her shoulders, with streaks of gray. There were lines in the corners her eyes, but she wasn't looking straight at him, so she couldn't catch if he recognized her face, but there was something oddly familiar about her.

The woman fiddled with her purse, removing some bills and setting it down, smiling up at Lyla. Lyla laughed, taking the glass and the money from the woman, walking back to the bar, setting the dirty glass in the tray underneath the bar, and stepping to the register to make change.

He didn't break his eyes from the woman, but nodded towards Lyla. "Hey, Garrity."

"Yeah?"

"Who is that woman?"

"I don't know, just some customer, I've never seen her before, why?"

He shook his head slightly, whispering. "No reason." She looked so familiar.

The woman was wearing relatively nice clothing. Definitely didn't look like someone who would frequent Buddy's Bar or would even stop by if they were passing through.

Why was this bothering him so much?

"Are you sure?" he asked, still keeping his eye on the woman, who was studying her phone, waiting on her change. He glanced at Lyla, who stood beside him, now looking at the woman. Well this wasn't obvious at all.

Her brow and nose wrinkled adorably when she frowned. "I don't know, I mean…she's kind of familiar, maybe. I'm not sure, why?"

He set the glass of water down, stepping around the bar, reaching back to offer his hand to Lyla. "Here, let me go over."

"Tim…" Lyla sighed, but gave him the change. Her voice warned. "Tim, she's like fifty years old."

He turned his head, lifting an eyebrow, slightly amused. "I'm not going to hit on her." Buddy might. The woman was attractive; he could at least see that, walking towards her, his boot heels echoing on the hardwood bar floor. He stopped in front of the table, waiting a second.

The woman was leaning over her purse, one of those large monstrosity things, maybe what women called totes. He thought he recognized the brand label and one that Tyra had spent about two hundred bucks on. Why you would spend that much money on a purse was over his head. It meant she had money though, to splurge on something like that.

Or had money, it looked pretty beat up.

The clothing she wore was kind of the same. Nice, expensive, but worn and used. She tossed her hair from her face and lifted her eyes.

Tim's breath caught in his throat, his fingers clenching around the dollar bills in his hand.

Oh God.

The woman's eyes widened. She grabbed the purse, stumbling off the high-top chair, hurrying towards the door. She paused, turning and staring at him. She smiled slightly, before running outside.

What the…

He threw the money on the ground, taking off towards the door, flinging it open and running into the gravel parking lot, knocking a few people out of his way to stop and try to see what car she got into.

A dark blue sedan was burning rubber, turning with a screech out of the parking lot, gravel spitting up behind the tires, the red taillights burning out in the distance as it sped away.

The door opened behind him. "Tim? Are alright, what happened?" Lyla came to stop beside him, reaching her fingers to lightly touch his shoulder.

He flinched; her fingers fell immediately away.

Lyla followed his gaze towards the disappearing car. "Who was that woman? Did you know her? You left her change on the floor, she just ran out."

Garrity, shut up, he wanted to scream, his mind processing the information. Or trying to process the information. It couldn't be. It had been…it had been ten years. How was it possible? Ten damn years, hell he'd forgotten…

There was no mistaking it though.

It was her.

He closed his eyes, whispering. "You want to know who that was?"

"Yes, I do."

Tim sighed, turning away from the parking lot, walking back to the bar, Lyla hot on his heels. "My mother."

"That was my mother."


	2. Breakable

**Chapter 2: Breakable**

The rest of the night, Lyla watched him like he was going to break, like moving glass. She remained at the bar, pouring drinks and making change, smiling and walking around, cleaning tables, talking to people, and taking hits like she was in an entire room of men who just got released from prison.

Only thing that saved her from getting grab-assed was that her daddy was the owner of the bar and the guys wanted to keep coming back here to get drunk and spend their paychecks.

She pushed her fingers through her hair, leaning over one of the tables to collect several empty beer bottles and liquor glasses, lifting her eyes, scanning through the crowded bar to Tim, who was leaning back against the wall of colorful liquor bottles, chewing on a stir stick, staring off at something in front of him, and ignoring the people lined up wanting drinks.

Damn, she thought, carrying her bin of dishes over to the bar, shoving it beneath and leaning over to take drink orders. Was this what her life had come to? A four-year education at Vanderbilt University, where she graduated summa cum laude with honors, and a full ride to the University of Texas at Austin School of Medicine and she was pouring drinks and wiping down tables?

To be honest, she hadn't told her father that she was thinking of denying UT, of retracting her admission, giving up her space, but…it didn't start until late August. She had about ten weeks before she had to completely decide, before classes began.

I don't know what I want, she thought, pouring a scotch and tossing the requested lemon twist in it, shoving it in front of one of the local drunks who liked to flirt with her, but she wasn't in the mood.

She ignored one of them calling her name, walking up to Tim, her fingers touching his elbow, lightly bringing him out of his trance, his eyes glancing towards her. "What?" he demanded.

Lyla frowned, feeling a headache coming on; she'd been frowning so damn much in the last couple hours. Since Tim ran out of the bar, made that admission out there in the parking lot, and then walked back inside like nothing was the matter. That was him though. He was slowly compartmentalizing the information, until eventually he was going to forget it ever happened.

Until he went home and drank himself into a stupor.

You're doing so well, she screamed inside her head, seeing his eyes darken slightly. "I'm just…" she sighed, whispering, her eyes widening a little, hopefully to impart the seriousness of what he'd witnessed earlier. "Tim, you should go home, I'll tell my dad."

"I don't need you asking daddy for things for me."

Whoa, where the hell did that come from? She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. "That's not what…Tim, go home."

"No."

"Well then if you're not going to go home, you're going to grab a rag and start wiping down the bar and taking these drink orders, I can't do this all on my own," she snapped, pushing a bar rag at him. She turned back around to Drunk Andy, snapping at him as he leaned over to try to get another beer. "You want your hand chopped off? Try that again! I'm coming!"

The night wore on and by the end of it, when Tim closed the door, flicking the lock over after kicking out the last few stragglers, she was glad it was closing. She had accumulated a decent amount in tips, which she was counting out at the bar, freshly wiped down and polished for tomorrow.

"Ten, twenty…" she counted, setting aside his take for the evening. She set it into an envelope beside hers. She leaned her elbow against it, swiveling on the stool as he came over to sit down beside her, taking a bottle of beer he'd already removed from the freezer with him. Lyla tapped the envelope. "That's two-twenty in tips."

"Damn."

She nodded, sighing. "Yeah, as it gets warmer, people drink more. It's the open-patio out there with live music. My idea of course," she tried to tease. To be honest, she didn't mind stuff like this. Organizing and running something.

Doing something.

She tied her hair back behind her head, taking the money she was wrapping up for the late-night deposit and placing it into the cash bag.

Buddy had long gone home, which meant she had to do it. She stacked up the receipts, setting them in the envelope to go in the back. Everything was in order. What was sold was in the till. Pretty good business.

Lyla pursed her lips, studying him as he drank, leaning against the bar. She scanned the room, shaking her head. "We have to clean this place up. Dad sent home Tracy early, she was whining about her son being sick, he said."

"She was also grinding on some college kid with his buddies, that's why she wanted to leave early."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, she's a peach," he drawled, sighing and leaning forward, dangling the beer between his fingers. He shrugged, whispering. "I'll close up, you can take off."

"No, I'll help." Lyla took the money into the office, shoving it into the safe until she was prepared to leave. She straightened up, walking back out and finding Tim putting dishes into the dishwasher in the back. She leaned against the doorway, watching him for a moment.

Tim sighed, tossing his hair from his eyes, whispering. "Ask what you want to ask."

Well thank you, but I was going to go ahead and just ask it anyway.

"You were thirteen when she left," she stated. She shrugged. "You told me that she just…went out for cigarettes and never came back."

They didn't talk much about his mother or his father, but sometimes he would open up. She wondered if she was the only one he'd ever told some of those things to. He told her how much he hated his father, how he didn't think he'd ever see him again, but…but his mother he didn't open up much about.

There was a photo of her, she'd found once, when she was rummaging around in his room looking for her clothing, figuring she should probably at least take some of the stuff she left at his house home to wash once and awhile. It was after Christmas, the year they were dating in high school, and she'd found it in his dresser.

She was very young, holding him as a baby, with Billy, who was older, scowling at the camera. Very pretty too, Tim looked like his father, but his more…she wouldn't call it feminine, but some of his more patrician features, like his nose or his jawline, came from his mother.

There was also a snowglobe he kept hidden away, protected. She gave it to him, he said, but never said much else. So she didn't pry.

Lyla cleared her throat, when he didn't say anything, continuing. "You told me that she left you, you were thirteen, and that your dad left soon after that. Your dad came back that one time and you knew where he was, but…but your mom…you didn't know where she was, right?"

"What are you asking me Garrity?"

Don't call me that, this isn't a Garrity conversation; this is a Lyla conversation. She followed him out of the back room, into the closet, where he began to fill up the mop bucket to wash down the floors. She grabbed the broom, following him out, sweeping as he mopped.

She angrily pushed at broken pretzels on the ground and dirt and straw wrappers and broken stir sticks, her voice as clipped as her movements with the damn broom. "I'm asking you, Tim, why you think your mother suddenly appeared in the bar tonight and then ran out? I'm asking you, why are you acting so unaffected? Get angry or something! Yell, fight, scream, or go after her, don't act like your mother who abandoned you didn't just show up out of nowhere isn't a big deal!"

Do something, she thought, looking up at him, leaning on the mop, frowning at her.

He sighed, whispering. "Why do you care?"

He sounded so damn defeated. I'm sorry, she thought immediately. She pushed her fingers into her eyes, taking a breath, letting them fall down to her side. "Tim, I'm just…I care about you. I can't not care about you, Tim, I…."

I love you. How hard is that to believe? After everything we've been through? Why do you act like I don't love you?

Why is this so hard, why can't we be friends? So many questions and absolutely no answers.

She just repeated herself, whispering. "I care about you." She quirked her lip up, reaching back to sweep at some more dirt, taking the dustpan, squatting down, lifting her eyes back to him. She whispered. "I'm your friend."

There. Wasn't that enough?

Tim shoved the mop into the drainer, tugging at the handle to get off the excess water before slopping it down to the floor, taking a few swipes before he straightened up, leaning on it again, staring off into space. He shook his head, whispering. "I think she's been following me. That car…I've seen it around."

Now we're getting somewhere.

She swept, squatted down to pick up the dirt, and he followed with the mop, in a pretty well established routine. While they worked, they spoke softly, with her asking quiet questions and him barely answering, but at least it was a start. "You sure it's her?"

"Yeah, it's her. She's older though."

"You know why she's here?"

"If I did, you think I'd be here?"

Fair enough. She continued. "What are you going to do?"

Tim didn't answer that one.

When they finished sweeping and mopping, she went through the bar, tilting chairs up onto the tables, while Tim finished in the back of the bar. She called out over the quiet. Someone had turned the music off; she wasn't sure who did. "You want some company tonight?"

"You don't need to keep me from swallowing a gun Garrity."

She smiled; that was a sufficient use of her name. "I'm not asking because of that Tim. I know you don't like to talk about your feelings. I'm not saying that, just…if you want someone there, I can be there."

Maybe it won't be as awkward as she was thinking.

Tim sighed, finishing dusting off bottles. He reached for the timesheet, scribbling down the time they'd finished. He shook his head, looking over at her. "I'll be fine."

Of course you will.

Lyla took the night deposit money, walking out back while Tim closed the door, locking and setting the alarm system. He stood in the back parking lot, shoving his hands into his pockets while she put the money in her car, straightening up, looking over at him.

Don't do it Garrity, she thought, closing the door, walking towards him. There was just one light on; the other had burned out a long time ago. She kept meaning to get on her father to call someone to replace it; it wasn't safe, especially if she was closing alone.

She mimicked his stance; hands in pockets, shoulders slumped somewhat. It was pretty warm out, she could already feel the humidity sticking her t-shirt to the small of her back. Thankfully she'd pulled her hair back, the very light breeze doing little to curb the sweat starting to accumulate beneath her ponytail.

Lyla tilted her face back, looking up at him, whispering. "I needed to choose myself Tim."

Tim closed his eyes, whispering. "Please, Lyla…"

"That's all I wanted to say. I needed to choose myself, but…" She bit her lower lip, her brow wrinkling. She reached out, taking his hand into hers, holding it with both her hands, squeezing. He didn't look up. "Tim, this is your mother. You need to find out why she's here…"

"She probably wants money," he mumbled.

Why would she be watching you for so long? Why would she come to your place of work? Obviously she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to…to see him. If she wanted money, you'd think she'd just come out with it. Besides, she'd seen that woman's choice of clothing, shoes, and purse. She wasn't poor.

She lifted her eyes up, finally meeting his. "Tim, you should find out. Maybe you can…" she let it falter. Maybe you can have a family, she wanted to say, but she knew that wasn't accurate.

Tim had a family. He had Billy and Mindy and the boys. He had her father. Hell, he had Tyra. When it counted, Tyra was the one who was there, wasn't she?

I wasn't, she thought, shaking it from her mind, squeezing his hand again. "I'm just saying…she didn't just come out of the woodwork after ten years to just get money Tim. You don't even have money to get. You should find out where she is. What she wants."

"Why?" he demanded.

She rose on her toes, kissing his cheek. Her face flushed, stepping away, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

He sighed hard. Annoyed. "Lyla."

"I gotta' get this money to the bank." Lyla turned away from him, hurrying to her car. She climbed in, turning it on, waiting for the AC to start pumping out at her before she turned her head, looking over her shoulder.

He was climbing into his truck.

Maybe she should follow him home or go check on him.

She'd check on him tomorrow.

Lyla had a plan.


	3. Friendship

**A/N:**Thanks for all the reviews :) Hopefully this story is enjoyable.

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**Chapter 3: Friendship**

"Rise and shine!"

What the hell? Who was that?

Tim jumped a little in the bed, hearing his bedroom door bang open. He frowned into his pillow, drowning it out. Maybe it was the voices in his head. The hangover that was inevitable, given the amount of alcohol he'd consumed when he got home.

He heard what sounded like Lyla Garrity saying something about how he had to get up or she'd pour water on him. That was silly. Lyla wasn't in his room. Hadn't been for years. Plus, she was too scared of him now to even think about coming up into his bedroom.

"What the hell!?" he exclaimed, jumping up and hissing at the freezing cold water that was suddenly streaming down his face. He leaned against the headboard, scrubbing at his eyes, which felt like ice cubes now. Geez!

Someone who was in fact, Lyla, tossed the now empty bottle of water onto the floor with all the other assorted crap, walking across the space to the other set of windows, throwing open the curtains. "Beautiful view," she stated, pausing to admire the sunrise before turning back around, snapping her fingers. She pointed at him, her voice as firm as she could possibly make it. "Get out of bed."

"What are you doing?" he groaned, crawling back down into the covers and his pillow. It was early. He had a day off; he didn't want to wake up early.

"Tim it is absolutely freezing in here."

"I like the AC low." He lowered the covers from his face, the light shooting daggers into his eyes. A six-pack later and this was what he got from it. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what she was doing. It hit him a second later, after she began to move some things out of the way on the floor.

Aw hell, she was cleaning his room.

Lyla swept up dirty clothes into a laundry basket, tsking. "Tim this place is a sty."

"I like it. It's my house."

"And it's a beautiful house, but you still have to finish the back."

Yes, he did still have to finish the sunroom and the back siding, but he wanted stone, so he had to wait until he could afford the masonry. He crawled out of the bed, thankful that he'd thought to keep his briefs on last night. If she could barely handle seeing him change his shirt, he didn't want to know what kind of panic attack Miss Priss Garrity would have if he got out of bed naked.

He yawned, shuffling over and grabbing a pair of cargo shorts, stepping into them and taking the t-shirt she offered him, yanking it on over his head.

What was she doing here, he thought, now that his mind was slightly clearer. They could barely look at each other without devolving into awkwardness. Now she was in his house, in his room, and helping him get dressed?

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, speaking quietly. "I have to talk to you about some things. Come downstairs when you're ready."

He scrubbed his hand at his hair, watching her leave, closing the door behind her. He shook his head, walking through his stuff to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he was padding barefoot into his kitchen, looking at Lyla, who was slightly amused at the college dorm-sized minifridge sitting on his granite countertop. "You don't have a real fridge?" she asked.

"That's a fridge."

"A real one?"

"Not yet." He had his eye on a Sub-Zero. Thing would cost a lot, so he was waiting until he could get the damn siding done before he started cleaning up the inside. He still had to paint some rooms and put down molding and bunch of other stuff he didn't really think about until he'd saved up more money.

Only rooms that were completely finished from top to bottom was his living room and his bedroom. Only two places he really hung out, anyway. He didn't plan on using the guest rooms much, although Billy usually crashed when he was fighting with Mindy, or sometimes Stevie stayed with him while Billy and Mindy were busy with the twins.

He picked up a travel cup of coffee from a carrier on his kitchen island. "Thanks," he said, reaching into a bag beside it, removing a bearclaw.

Lyla followed him out onto the porch. She waited until he had taken a seat before she reached into a slim leather bag in her hands, removing a shiny silver laptop, setting it down on her knees as she sat across from him in one of the other Adirondack chairs.

The bearclaw was good. "You get this from that bakery that just opened?"

"Yes. They had those and they even had quiche. Plus, they knew what a skinny vanilla latte was. I was amazed."

"That like a thinner cup or something?"

Lyla just smiled over the top of her laptop, shaking her head. "No," she drawled, typing at the computer for a moment, before she turned it around, pointing at a newspaper article. She whispered. "So I found your mother."

Damnit. That's what this was. Of course.

Guess Lyla Garrity needed a new project to work on in her summer boredom.

Tim swallowed his coffee, feeling it burn down his throat. Hot and black, just like he liked it, she remembered. He wasn't hungry anymore, setting the pastry down on the table beside his elbow, leaning forward, and holding the cup between his fingertips. "I don't want to do this."

Her first warning.

Lyla ignored him, continuing to point at the laptop. "She was in this newspaper article in Dallas, apparently she married some big-time plastic surgeon. She divorced him and got a pretty large settlement, but then there was some issue with his company or something and the government seized the assets, including a large portion of her settlement."

She released a long breath, closing the computer and setting it back into the bag, whispering. "Tim, she…" She sighed, shaking her head, whispering. "Tim she had a daughter."

He stood up, walking by her and down the back porch steps.

I don't want to hear this.

"Tim!"

I don't want to hear this.

I was fine! I was fine without her; I was fine without you…he kept walking, his feet stinging as he stormed through the dirt and grass towards the dock that he'd built stretching out into the small pond behind the house. Hell, he was so angry he could step on a scorpion or a snake and not even notice.

His feet banged on the dock, coming to a stop at the end, or else he'd just walk off into the pond. He turned in a circle a couple of times, finally stopping, staring at her as she approached him.

"This is your fault!"

"Oh it's my fault?"

Yes, yes it is. He dug his fingers into his hair; letting his hands fall back down. He closed his eyes, whispering. Almost begging. "I didn't want you to do this."

"Do what Tim? Help you find out why your mother suddenly showed up out of nowhere for the first time in ten years? Come find you? I don't care."

"You shouldn't care!" he shouted. He never raised it voice. It felt weird. He laughed, his words coming from somewhere he'd kept locked up for a long time. Since that weekend when he put her on a bus back to her life. That weekend when she broke his heart, but he had to let her go, because she was right. Because there was more to life than Lyla Garrity and that's all she wanted for him.

And he broke her heart too, because he didn't want to go out and find that life.

He really couldn't do this.

He laughed again, closing his eyes. "Lyla," he whispered. He sighed, frowning at her, his hands on his hips. "Lyla why are you even here? Why? What's the point? I have what I want, Garrity. I have my house. I have my land. I have a job that is never going to make me a millionaire, but I don't want to be a millionaire. I still work at your dad's bar, I just…why?"

He was so defeated. Just tired of everything. It had been three years since he got out of jail. He was off probation, as of a year ago. That's all he wanted, was to just…to have this piece of Texas and to be happy.

Maybe he wasn't completely happy, but…he had most of what he wanted.

Why couldn't she let that be?

Lyla pursed her lips, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was shorter, he suddenly realized, barely touching her shoulders. It also looked darker, or maybe her skin was paler. Maybe both. The sun glinted off her dark eyes, which were shining.

She was about to cry. Damnit. He always made her cry.

She glanced away from him, over her shoulder to the house, which stood in front of a thicket of trees. He maintained that he wouldn't cut any of the trees if he could help it. She turned her face back towards his, smiling. "Tim," she whispered.

Don't. Don't do it.

"Tim, I didn't leave you because I didn't love you," she whispered, her voice thick. She smiled, shrugging, looking just as defeated as him. "I didn't come back because I didn't love you or for that matter because I did love you."

Then why didn't you come back? Not that he cared. It was too hard with her here.

"I didn't come back because it was easier to just stay away from you. From Dillon. To do what I wanted to do for the first time in my life. Not have a guy at my side. Just be me."

"And then I come back here and you just…I don't want to be like this!" she shouted. She laughed hard. "I want to be able to be your friend and to not feel like an idiot because I go upstairs to your room and wake you up and try to help you! That was terrifying for me this morning, wondering how you'd react, when once upon a time ago it wouldn't have been a big deal at all!" She took a deep breath, continuing to yell. "I am so sick of being scared to be near you because we're so afraid of each other or something." She wiped at her eyes, her hands returning to her hips. She pressed her lips in a thin line, her throat bobbing slightly as she swallowed.

Her boot toe dug into a knothole on the dock, her voice quieting. "Tim your mother is back. I want to help you. I think you really need this, I do. If she wants back in your life, I think you owe it to yourself to hear her and you can decide from there. What she did…it was awful. Abandoning you to a monster. To a kid…"

Billy. Yes, Billy was a kid.

And no, his father wasn't a monster…he was just…difficult.

At least he cared enough to try to stick around. Even if he failed miserably. Even if I hated myself for believing in him. At least he cared about the football. Whatever good football did me.

Tim lifted his head up again, staring at her. He closed his eyes, sighing. The breeze buzzed through the trees and the tall grass around him. He could hear the bugs. Somewhere a bird cawed. All he needed were a couple cows and horses and it would be damn near right out of a Western.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, shuffling towards her, pausing before he got completely to her. He met her gaze. "I never…never wondered about her."

Lyla nodded. She cleared her throat. "I want to help you. I want to be friends."

That was such a funny word. Friends.

He nodded, reaching for her, wrapping his arms around her. It felt good, was his first thought. His other thought was that she'd changed. Even since a few months ago, when she came back for Christmas, when they first saw each other again. He rested his chin on top of her head, holding her tight.

She squeezed him back, her hands spread wide over his shoulder blades. It felt really nice. For some reason she felt…harder. Like she'd grown a shell or something.

They let go a second later. He reached to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. She lifted her eyebrow, smiling slightly as he drifted his fingers down her jawline, finally letting his hand fall to his side. "Tim," Lyla said, clearing her throat, turning around and walking with him down the dock, back to the house.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sleeping with you."

He rolled his eyes, smiling at her. "Why's everything have to be about that?"

"Because with you it's usually a good bet."

He chuckled. Maybe she was right. He paused, reaching down to grab a long strand of grass, tugging at the harder outer layer towards the stem, tearing it in his fingertips. He thought about what she said.

A daughter.

So he had a sister out there somewhere.

"How…" he took a deep breath, letting it sit in his throat for a second before releasing it. He glanced up at the sky, whispering. "How old is she?"

"Best I can figure…she's probably five or six."

I was thirteen when she left. A mean, angry, and sullen thirteen year old who just wanted a family like his best friend did. Sometimes he'd pretend, when he went to Jason's for dinner or to spend the night on weekends, he'd pretend that Mitchell and Joanne Street were his parents and that they'd adopted him. Jason was really his brother. Jason would say it was true, that maybe he could ask and they would adopt him and then they could really be brothers.

And he'd always threaten Jay that he'd beat him up if he ever brought the idea to his parents, because sometimes it wasn't all bad. Like when his mother got him the snowglobe or when his dad would throw the ball around with him and Billy.

Then she'd go a bender, his dad would blow through the paycheck money, and he and Billy would be back to starving to death, wearing dirty clothes, and not telling the school why their parents had been 'out of town' for so long.

Shit, Billy.

What the hell was he going to tell Billy? He deserved to know, but…Billy had less of a tolerance for their parents. He always had. He'd had to deal with it a lot longer. Seven years longer.

Mom was seventeen when Billy was born. That made her, what? He frowned, trying to do the math in his head.

"She's 47, Tim."

47. With a 30-year old son with kids of his own, a 23-year old felon idiot, and then…his…well her other kid. He couldn't bring himself to call that person his….well what she really was.

Huh, I'm a middle child. Weird.

Lyla walked up to the back porch, collecting her laptop, holding it up, meeting his gaze. "Get your coffee, take it inside and heat it up. We'll go inside, it's getting hot. You don't have to be at work today, right?"

"Day off. From both jobs."

"Good. I'll tell my dad I can't close the bar tonight like he wanted. He can get Angela to do it." Lyla sat down at the kitchen island, on one of the barstools, opening the computer up, shoving a little do-hickey thing into the side.

"What's that?"

"Wireless internet. You don't have it. This thing creates my own hotspot."

"Garrity I don't need Internet. I have cable. That's more than enough technology for me."

Lyla tied her hair up on top of her head into a knot, nudging her coffee towards him. "Heat this up please. I'm going to see what more information I can find. Maybe we can get an address, you'd think she'd be living around here if she can drive around all the time. Maybe she's staying at a hotel though."

His stomach turned at the idea of an address. He cleared his throat, carrying their coffee to the microwave, sticking the cups inside and punching the express button, turning around, frowning in concern. "Maybe we should slow down on that," he whispered.

She looked over the top of her computer, shaking her head, whispering. "Tim, you need to know everything. We can go from there, I'm not saying…Tim she was following you for a reason, she wanted to know you for a reason, I just…I think you deserve to know what that reason is. She owes it to you, she can't make you wonder anymore."

This was just…it was a can of worms he wasn't sure he wanted to open. He swallowed hard, carrying the cups back over, sitting beside her and looking over her shoulder at the computer.

A daughter.

Somewhere out there he had a sister.

"Five?" he whispered, glancing at her.

Lyla smiled, nodding, turning the computer and pointing to the news article. "It says a two-year old in this article, so…by now yeah, she's probably five or six."

"That's really young," he whispered. That was almost as old as Stevie. Stevie was going to be four. That meant he had an aunt who was almost the same age as him. Very creepy.

He closed his eyes. "Okay. Show me what you got Garrity?"

Lyla chuckled, lifting her coffee to her lips and sipping before setting it aside, reaching back for the computer, talking about what she planned to do and where she wanted to start searching first.

He kept running that information through his head while she spoke.

A sister.

Billy.

His mother.

"Tim, what was her full name again? I'm only going by her first name and I found her married last name, but maybe she's changed it again."

He spoke, his voice cracking slightly, like he was dusting off cobwebs in his throat. "Anne. Her name was Anne. Anne Marie."

"Did she go by Riggins?"

He shook his head, whispering. "She went by…I don't remember, but no." Hell, he didn't even remember his mother's real name. He sighed. "Doesn't matter, she probably never used it again, to hide from my dad." He wasn't even sure if they were married. His mom was really young when they had Billy, but his dad wasn't. He didn't know either of his grandparents, whether they forced them to marry or not.

There was an aunt he had, his father's sister, who lived in East Dillon and a couple cousins, but he wasn't close with them.

But his mom…he didn't know anything about that side of the family. Or her, for that matter.

Maybe if he did, he'd know why she left.

Although he suspected he knew why.

Me, he thought, closing his eyes, sighing. She left because of me.

"Tim? Hey, come back, we're finding some good stuff."

"Sure," he whispered, sighing. "What do you have?"

Lyla cocked her head, frowning. "You alright? You want to talk?"

No, I don't.

We'll see what happens from here, but I make no promises on anything, he thought, turning the computer towards him to read the article she'd found.


	4. Sparks

**Chapter 4: Sparks  
**

Lyla reached for her bottle of beer, settling back on Tim's couch, her computer still in her lap as she ran another search for "Anne McConnell" which was her married name. She was trying to find anything, just…anything that would suggest why she'd crawled out of her relatively middle-class, former upper-class life and seek out her son she'd abandoned.

She had a theory, but wasn't saying anything on it to Tim. She'd majored in biochemistry and business. Why, she didn't know, just that she couldn't really decide and she had room to take both, so she did. She had seen the slight yellowing in the woman's eyes as well as how she'd had not one sip of alcohol seated at the table.

Lyla would bet that she was sick. Maybe not dying, just…just sick.

And it was kind of surprising how she'd show up at the bar and then…be surprised to see him.

Maybe she thought Tim wasn't there. That was one of the theories she'd been operating under. His truck was parked in the back of the bar, which could only be seen if you took one of the sidestreets off the main road, which she wouldn't know to look for, being unfamiliar with the area.

And he'd been in the back, doing inventory for the night. If she'd snuck inside, she wouldn't have seen him at the bar. Maybe she just wanted to see where he worked or get a feel for it.

The panicked look she'd seen, when Tim recognized her, when he went over to the table…that wasn't a woman who was planning on seeing him. Why, Lyla hadn't yet figured.

She couldn't imagine not wanting to see your child.

Not that she'd thought about it. She was 23; she wasn't interested in children. Not like before, when if Jason probably told her he wanted to get her pregnant immediately after getting into the pros, she'd have done it in a heartbeat. That was a very stupid little girl, a very long time ago, she thought, finishing her beer.

She set it on the coffee table with a clink. Across from her, in his La-Z-Boy, Tim was going through papers. "What are you doing?" she asked, genuinely curious.

He stopped his movements, quiet for a minute, before he started to go through them again. "I'm studying," he whispered. He sighed. "I don't want to hear it."

Hear what?

"Tim," she groaned, shaking her head. She hit it back against the couch cushion, glancing at the computer, leaning forward when she got the results she wanted from the search engine that scanned through Vanderbilt's library system, looking for newspaper articles all over the country. She still had the password and they hadn't disabled her access now that she was no longer a student.

She opened up a couple of the results, clearing her throat. "Okay," she said, writing down what she found. "It looks like, eight years ago she married this doctor guy, Jack McConnell. He committed healthcare fraud, cheated on her, this whole nasty thing so she divorced him…."

Lyla scanned through more articles. "She had a daughter with him, who is now…five, but her birthday is in October…."She looked up, whispering. "Her name is Sophia."

He set his papers aside, getting up from the chair, walking over to sit beside her, looking at the photo of the woman they'd both seen in the bar, side-by-side with the doctor guy, who looked like an ass. There weren't any photos of the girl, but she wasn't sure she wanted to find those.

Right now he had to wrap his mind around his mother.

She continued, whispering. "I can't find anything that…that shows she has a criminal record or anything."

One of her thoughts was that maybe she was here for money. By all accounts, it seemed like what settlement she got from the doctor, which was publicized in the society pages, that the government took it with them when they finally went after the guy for fraud.

He was now in jail, leaving her to raise their daughter; but Lyla wasn't sure what her motive was. The two theories were that she was sick, which was winning out or that she wanted money, because she'd been accustomed to a lifestyle which was now gone.

The one thing hanging her up there, she thought, glancing around Tim's beautiful living room, before landing on the archway into the front room, which was probably going to be a study or dining room. It was barely finished, with paint cans stacked against the wall, rolls of plastic sheeting, various beams, and exposed electrical sockets showing its still "in progress" status.

The one thing hanging her up there was that Tim had no money. None. What little he got from working at Buddy's and from the construction gig, he shoved into savings and spent on making his house.

Hell, she wanted a drink.

Tim silently passed her his half-finished beer; she wasn't counting, but between the two of them, throughout the last several hours they'd gone through a six-pack and a half. She felt like she wasn't even drunk. Maybe she'd been in college too long.

"So medical school, huh?"

What a change of topic.

"Yup."

"I never thought you wanted to be a doctor."

I never knew what I wanted to be, ever. She hadn't even allowed herself to think about it in high school. All she wanted to do was just…be happy. Which she was, with him, and then she went to school and realized that there was this great big life out there, even if she had no idea what she wanted to do with that life.

She shrugged. "I want to help people." That was pretty much her one thing she could focus on. "Doctors help people."

"It's a lot of school, right?"

"Another ten or so years."

"Wow." He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against hers, smiling slightly. "Remember when you wanted to play doctor and we were like…six?"

"Yeah, you wanted to see my panties, that's not playing doctor."

"I did get to see them. They were frilly."

She rolled her eyes, but grinned, finding it nice to actually smile with him. In fact, she was surprised he brought up something like a childhood memory. Maybe he was thinking of his mother. She poked her finger into his chest. "We went to the same school until my dad moved us to that house, in the nice neighborhood, after he got into some business…I don't even remember."

It seemed he was always jumping from business to business, he liked it, but he was terrible at it. He needed a better manager.

"Yeah, I didn't see you until junior high. By then you'd already got your hooks in Street."

"How is Jason?" she whispered. She hadn't heard from him since he left for New York. They all just drifted apart, like high school friends did.

He nodded, whispering. "He's married. He's good, I guess. Haven't talked to him in awhile."

That was sad. She figured of the three of them, their whole little band of crazy…that at least those two would be able to stay close. Jason got what he wanted, she reminded herself. He moved away, he made something of himself other than a kid in a wheelchair with a broken neck and a sad story of what might have been.

He reached his finger over, touching her hand, whispering. "When are you moving to Austin?"

I should be looking for an apartment. I should be buying my books…starting to read and study. It was expected of them that they were pretty well versed in their subjects on the first day, but…she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet. "I don't know," she said, instead, clearing her throat, whispering. "I guess I missed so much of this place being at Vanderbilt, I want to stick around, maybe let my dad see me for longer than three days."

He got up from the couch, walking over to the window, next to the fireplace, which she had to admit, was really nice, the way he'd set the brick hearth and chimney. He peered outside, at the dark.

They'd been doing this for an entire day.

And not once had she felt like she had even last night, that weird, awkward…stifled feeling. Like if she moved, he'd run away. Or if he moved, she'd panic.

She remained on the couch, pillowing her head on her arms, on the armrest, watching him in profile, staring outside. "You do seem happy Tim," she whispered. She shrugged, when he turned his head to look at her, his face impassive. "I know it's rich, coming from me, but…you do seem happy."

Like how you were with me, only without me, but she didn't dare say that.

And that's what I wanted.

She hid her smile in her arms. That's what I wanted for you. You got it.

He left the window, falling back into the La-Z-Boy, staring at the ceiling; his legs slumped out in front of him, whispering. "I have to tell Billy…but I don't know how. Or when."

"When you get an answer," she said, climbing to her feet, collecting the trash from their dinner of pizza and beer, placing it in the kitchen. They moved in comfortable silence, like they had a long time ago, cleaning up.

She put her laptop into its sleeve, walking out of the living room into the kitchen, placing it on the table with her purse. She sighed, smiling at him. "I have to get back to my dad's."

Not that he cared. Although she didn't want to deal with questions about where she might have been all night.

"Sure."

"You working tomorrow?"

"Yeah, at the construction site, out on the highway. It's going to be a school."

"Fun, what are you doing there? Like…" She shrugged, leaning against the counter. "What do you do on the construction site?"

He smiled slightly, walking by her towards the hallway leading along the staircase towards the front door. "I build things."

"Tim I know the difference between the white hat and yellow hat. You have a white hat. You're foreman or something, right?"

"Could always mean they ran out of yellow hats."

Damn, that was right. She smiled, whispering. "You're not going to tell me?"

He smiled, saying nothing. Yup, he wasn't going to say anything. He stood in front of the door, his hands on his hips. "I'll see you at the bar tomorrow night."

I'm going to keep digging on this, she thought, nodding, holding the laptop in her arms, the purse on her shoulder. She looked up at him, smiling in the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows on either side of the front door. "Good night," she whispered, rising on her toes, kissing his cheek.

He turned his lips, his breathing shallow, brushing them to the corner of her mouth. His hands came out, steadying her as she shifted on her toes, losing balance. She moaned, kissing him lightly, until he kissed her, just one kiss.

And then she just dropped the laptop, her arms around his neck, grabbing him, her mouth opening hungrily on his, taking everything she possibly could. His arms went around her, running up and down her back, gathering her tanktop up in his hands, his bare skin burning along hers.

No, she screamed, finally tearing herself away. He took a full step backwards, as she knelt to grab the laptop. She opened the front door, looking over at him, both of them stunned at what just happened.

"Forget it happened," she whispered. She swallowed her now very, very dry throat, licking at her chapped lips. She took a few calming breaths, glancing back at him. "See you tomorrow Tim."

He just nodded, waiting for her to get to her car before he closed the door.

Damnit, damnit, damnit! She threw her things into the backseat of her car, climbing in front and hurrying away from his house, hitting the accelerator, headed back to town. "What is wrong with you?" she exclaimed, staring at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Good God, Lyla! You're friends with him for like five minutes and you kiss him!"

He kissed back, the devil on her shoulder told her.

He's in emotional upheaval, the angel said, chiding her for taking advantage.

There was one thing both of them agreed on.

She shouldn't have left him alone.

What would he do? She'd kissed him; she'd run away…he was reeling from the news about his mother and a possible sister out there and just…damn.

It was bad enough she'd let him go last night, but…but now…this was different. They'd dredged up even more now.

Son of a bitch, she thought, turning her car around on the highway, driving back, parking in front of the house and running up the porch steps, banging on his door. He really needed to get a doorbell installed.

"Tim!" she yelled.

The door flung open, Tim standing on the other side. He stared at her, blinking after a second. "Can I help you Garrity?"

She swished her lips around. This was a big decision. One she was probably going to regret.

And hell, even earlier she'd told him she wasn't going to sleep with him.

She closed her eyes briefly. "This is just…us being friends," she said, stepping into the house, closing the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she whispered, her lips curving up into a smile. "And we don't…we don't talk about it, we don't even need to define it, it's just…friends…who…who do this…"

After a second, she reached for him, grabbing his face, kissing him again, in that passionate, heated way, her toes drifting on the floor as he lifted her up around her waist, returning the kiss. He broke it after a second, his breathing deep, and forehead against hers. "Don't talk about it, huh?"

"We've been…" We've been dancing around this for three weeks. We danced all around it back at Christmas, the week she was there to visit. She giggled, her arms linking around his neck, kissing him again. "I just…nevermind."

No talking and she was breaking one of her own rules.

She reached down for the buttons on his shirt, beginning to fumble with them when they got to the top of the staircase as his fingers pulled at the bottom of her tank-top, lifting it up and over her head, tossing it aside. You said this wasn't going to happen, her inner voice told her again. You said that you guys could be friends.

Friends could do this, the other voice said, as she tripped backwards towards his room. Yeah, but you can't that more practical voice said.

Will both of you shut up, she screamed, ignoring them both. She was doing this, she said she wouldn't but now she was. To get it out of her system, so to speak. They'd be fine. She repeated that again, smiling against his lips. He smiled back. They'd be fine.

They fell backwards onto the bed, clothes flying every which way.

Neither voice spoke again.


	5. Morning

**Chapter 5: Morning**

It was four in the morning.

Tim glanced at the alarm clock, which was actually at 3:45 in the morning, but his alarm would go off in fifteen minutes. It would go off in fifteen minutes and he would drag himself into his work clothes and then pour a pot of coffee down his throat, and then drive off to the site, to get in as much work as possible before the sun came up and the heat really drove off the motivation to work.

He turned his head on his pillow, watching Lyla, hugging the pillow to his face, smiling into it. She was asleep, in almost the same position, her mouth slightly ajar. Her hair fell over her forehead and shoulder, kind of sticking up. Wild.

They'd had a good time. Memories and all that. It was different though, he thought, frowning slightly. They weren't teenagers. There was something else to it now. He wouldn't call them adults. He wouldn't even call it love-making, because that was cheesy, but it wasn't that need for stress release like it had been with…well with every other woman in his life, especially the last couple years.

It was actually pretty nice, he thought, returning his gaze back up to the ceiling. He narrowed his eyes on a streak of paint that was a shade lighter than the rest. What? How did he do that? Must have been when he was painting at like three in the morning once, because he couldn't sleep. He did some of his best work in the middle of the night, usually after a nightmare.

Hey….he furrowed his brow, glancing towards her. He hadn't had one of those in awhile. He'd kind of been expecting one, with all this…this mother stuff.

He sighed, knowing he had to get out of bed. Get dressed. Go to work. Like an adult.

Being an adult sucked, he hated it.

He turned to the alarm clock, narrowing his eyes, willing it to stop. No such luck, it switched over to 3:48.

Best get out now.

He moved towards the side of the bed, just as a hand slipped over his shoulders. "Hey," he mumbled, turning his head, accepting the kiss she bestowed upon him. He smiled, his arm going around her shoulders, and his fingers drifting down to the small of her back as she stretched over him, kissing again. He sighed. "I gotta' go to work."

"This early?"

"Yeah."

Lyla nodded, whispering. "Okay." She kissed him again, smiling. "Last night was fun."

This wasn't weird, he thought, kissing her once more. He smiled against her lips. Not at all. Maybe it would be later. In fact, he fully expected it to be weird later, when it sunk into her what they did. They didn't really think this through.

Truth be told he was so sick of thinking about everything.

He just wanted a break.

He sighed, finally slipping out from beneath her, using all his willpower not to stay in the bed with her. He grabbed his jeans, shoving his feet into them, glancing over at her as she stretched out in the space he'd vacated. "You gonna' stick around?"

"Mmm….I have to get to the bar," she sighed, closing her eyes, mumbling. "Deliveries."

Yeah, that's right.

He reached for a white t-shirt that he thought was clean, tugging it over his head, talking while he got dressed. It was probably just talking to himself, since she had her eyes closed and arms tight around his pillow. "Hang as long as you want." They can talk about whatever the heck this was later.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he smiled, tugging his boot on. Lyla came up behind him, her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "I'll stick around," she whispered, smiling into his neck. "But…"

Ah, yes…there was always a but.

Tim yanked at the laces of his boot, tying them around his ankle twice before knotting them, reaching for the other. "Yeah?"

She sighed, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He reached his hands up, covering hers. Just say it. "I just think we should maybe…go slow now. Last night was great, but…"

He kind of felt relieved. Go slow was a lot different than 'I hate this and I'm leaving for Austin today.' He turned his face into hers, whispering. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"See you later," she whispered, kissing him once again.

They fell back onto the bed, arms around each other, until the alarm clock when off on his nightstand. He chuckled, breaking away, smiling. "I really gotta' go."

"Have a good day," she whispered, falling back to the bed, pulling the covers back over her shoulder. He turned off the alarm, climbing off the bed and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Several hours later, after work ended for him around two in the afternoon, he drove towards Buddy's, to find Lyla. He leaned on the door, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Unbelievable.

What are you doing?

He frowned, seeing the dark sedan again. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, accelerating and turning a corner, an idea forming. He kept driving, bypassing the turnoff for East Dillon, continuing on into the town. For a while, he drove throughout town, always seeing that sedan several cars behind him.

Couldn't he get her arrested for stalking or something?

"Let's see what you do with this," he mumbled, heading off into the neighborhood, smiling to himself, finally bringing his truck to a stop in front of his old house, waiting a second.

The sedan drove right by him, not stopping.

He watched the taillights fade, turning a corner at the end of the street. Damnit. Not like he expected her to come on out or anything, but still. He climbed out of the truck; well, he was here after all.

The front door opened, Stevie running out, holding an action figure and waving it in the air. "Uncle Tim!"

"Hey!"

The door opened again, Mindy leaning against it, holding one of the twins, who were now two-years old, already. "What are you doing here?" she called out, turning to go back inside when he walked up the drive, holding Stevie. "Not that I'm complaining. You want to change Nicky's diaper?"

"Ah, no thanks." Tim held Stevie on his arm, stepping up into the house, which was actually fairly neat; he was a bit surprised. He cleared his throat. "Um, where's Billy?"

"The football stadium, where else?"

"Just asking."

Stevie poked his shoulder, holding the action figure. "Look," he said, making the eyes light up. He giggled. "It's cool."

"It's very cool. Hey buddy, can I talk to your mom?"

"I guess."

"You guess? Well I'll take that." Tim set him down on the floor, waiting for Stevie to run off to his play area, settling with the action figure. One of the twins, Ricky, was passed out in the playpen, where Mindy set down Nicky, who was still awake, but at least he was quiet. "Um, you got a second?"

"A second? I'll give you a million. All of them must be tired or something they've been good all day, but I need to talk to an adult. What's up?" Mindy opened the fridge, removing a bottle of water. She smiled knowingly. "How's Ly-la?"

The separation of the syllables drove him crazy. When Billy wanted to annoy him about her, he'd say her name that way, teasing, like a big brother might tease a little brother. He rolled his eyes, whispering. "We're not together."

"Not what my mom says."

"I don't really care what your mom says, we're not together."

"Okay geez, calm down, you want to go outside?" Mindy didn't wait for him, walking out onto the patio, leaving the screen door open to listen for the boys. She tossed her hair out of her eyes. "What's going on Tim? You haven't been around in awhile. Billy's…he wants to make sure you're okay but you made it pretty clear with him."

Yes, he did make it clear with Billy. When he moved out completely, no longer staying in the house or in the trailer out at Becky's mom's house, he made it clear under no uncertain terms did he want Billy to just drop by all the time. He could call, but it was his land, his house, and he needed to do this on his own. Billy could help, but…he still had a lot of work to do with his brother.

He didn't expect they'd ever be as close as they were before, it was a hard thing to forgive, but…but he also took part in it. He took the blame, when he didn't have to do it.

That was a whole other story though, he thought idly, leaning back in a lawn chair, stretching his feet in front of him, crossing his ankles. In fact…he didn't know what he was doing here, but…it would be easier to tell Mindy than to tell Billy. At least right now. "Um," he whispered, leaning his head on his hand. He sighed. Just say it. "So…I saw this woman in the bar…"

Mindy lowered the bottle of water from her lips, her face falling. "Shit Tim."

What did he do now?

"What?"

"You got a girl pregnant, didn't you?"

His eyebrows slammed together. "What?" he yelped, jumping in the chair. "No!"

"Oh Jesus, I thought…well you're being so serious and you never come over here and you never talk to me of all people, what's going on?" Mindy exclaimed. She sighed, closing her eyes. "Tim, if this is about Tyra…"

"Will you let me finish?" Now he was getting annoyed. He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes and whispering. "She was our mom, okay? The woman who came into the bar was Billy and mine…our mom."

Mindy froze. She lowered the bottle again. "Excuse me?"

Maybe he should have thought this through. He nodded, whispering. "Yeah. She came into the bar. Didn't say anything, she was surprised to see me I think…she's been following me so…" He sighed hard. "So Lyla's figuring her out…we're gonna' find where she is and…and maybe what she wants."

Mindy was quiet, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. She unscrewed it and then put it back on again. She shook her fingers through her highlighted blonde hair, leaning forward, her eyes closing. "Tim, why are you telling me this? We're not the greatest of friends and you need to talk to your brother."

Why can't you just talk to him? He shrugged. "Wanted you to know. In case she stopped by."

"Do you think she's going to do that?"

I don't know. So far it seems like it's only me she's watching. Tim shrugged. "I don't know."

"Tim, you should tell Billy. You need to talk him. What are you going to do?"

That's a lot of things to think about. Tim fiddled with his fingers, finally pushing up from the chair, walking over to lean against the iron fence that wrapped around the patio, separating it from the pool, which they'd cleaned up and filled in, now full of little kid toys and a waterslide.

He turned around, leaning against the fence, studying the house. It had really changed. The way Billy cleaned up his life, it felt like this place had gone through the same thing.

Whatever his mother left behind…no wonder she was following him, she wouldn't be able to figure it out otherwise.

Tim pushed away from the fence. "I have to get to the bar, but…I wanted you to know."

"You know Billy never talks about her. Only a couple times, he just…says she's gone, she's not going to come back." Mindy looked up, her face wrinkling with concern. "Tim do we need to be worried with her? I have three babies, I can't…can't be dealing with Riggins family drama."

Isn't that why you married one? To help deal with it? He frowned slightly, which must have been rather obvious to Mindy, who shook her head, sighing and getting up from the chair. "What I mean is…I have three little kids to think about. I want to help you and I want to help Billy, but if it means putting my kids into something that I don't want them into, I'm not doing it. What else aren't you telling me?"

Mindy was pretty good at reading faces. Tim bit his lower lip, shrugging. "There's another kid," he whispered.

And I know nothing about her.

"Shit," Mindy cursed. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl. She's five."

"Five?" she breathed. "Good Lord, that's almost as old as Stevie."

"A year, but yeah, I know." He didn't want to get into anything else until he knew for sure. "Mindy don't tell Billy."

Mindy was already shaking her head. Damnit! It was that stupid married people thing, they always had to tell each other everything. "Nope," she said, poking her finger into his chest. "I tell Billy everything. It's what a good marriage is about, no secrets. Maybe one day you'll know that."

"I'm never getting married."

"Lyla Garrity won't allow that to happen, she's prissy."

"No she's not prissy," he protested, following Mindy into the house. He hated when people called her that. She was just…she was kind of prudish. When it counted. Other times she was more wild and crazy than him. "And besides, we're not getting married."

"Who are you marrying?" Stevie asked, coming up beside him.

"No one, I'm not getting married."

Mindy leaned down, smiling at Stevie. "Uncle Tim's gonna' marry his high school sweetheart."

"Mindy geez, she is not my high school sweetheart, I'm not marrying her!" He had to get out of here before Mindy pawned the kids off onto him. Not that he minded, but he had things to do. He shook his head. "I'm leaving."

"Tim, I have to tell him."

His stomach flipped. Yeah. Maybe he knew, that's why he told her…he didn't want to talk to Billy about this. It would be their dad all over again. "Yeah," he whispered. He shook his head, leaning down to give Stevie a hug. "Later kid."

"Bye Uncle Tim."

"Bye Mindy."

"Just so long as it's not my sister Tim, I approve of anyone you marry!"

He rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify that with a response. Walking out to the truck, he opened the door, looking out down the street, feeling like someone was watching him again.

The sedan was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he was just going crazy.

He drove towards the bar, waiting for the sedan to pop up once again. It didn't.

Not until he got into the parking lot of Buddy's, slipping around back when he saw the sedan appear on the main street, parking in the convenience store across the street. He smiled slightly, waiting a second before he walked around the bar, cutting across one of the back neighborhoods, taking his time.

His heart thudded in his chest, storming towards the sedan. He approached it from behind, where she wouldn't be able to see him until it was too late.

His knuckles rapped loudly on the dark tinted window. "Open up!" he yelled. "I know you're in there, I know you're following me, and I've had it, open up!"

The door unclicked, pushing open slightly.

What are you doing Riggins? He wasn't ready for this. They still needed to keep digging. Maybe he could have Lyla with him, but…he swallowed hard, his palms beginning to sweat, stepping away as she emerged from the sedan.

The woman standing in front of him looked a little smaller than the one from a couple nights ago in the bar. Or maybe his memory was off. She had her dark hair, streaked with gray, tied back behind her face, wearing a pair of capri pants and a tank-top. She was tall, for a woman, and thin, but he thought this was more of a sickly thin.

She smiled shakily, whispering. "Timmy."

He sighed, shaking his head. He'd never allowed himself to think of this moment again, because he really didn't want it to happen, but…this wasn't what he expected to feel.

It was just empty.

No anger, no relief…nothing. Just empty.

He nodded, whispering. "Mom."


	6. Sanctuary

**A/N: **Thank you for all the reviews :) Yes, Tyra makes an appearance, but not until Chapter 10 or so. The fic starts to get into really angsty territory at about that part too. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 6: Sanctuary**

"Buddy's Bar," Lyla chirped into the phone, lifting it up to her ear, sitting in the large 'commander' chair behind her dad's desk. She stapled an invoice to the delivery request, setting it into a file, before taking another one, listening to one of the beer vendors whine about traffic.

She nodded, listening to him mope. "Okay," she drawled, putting as much sweetness into her voice as possible. "That's lovely Mitch, that you're having such a bad day and you called to let me know, I truly appreciate it, but if you don't get me that delivery of Lone Star by five, I'm gonna' have to go over to Al, you know he's been trying to get me to start ordering Lone Star from him too…personally I think he gets a kick-back because his son works at the distillery, but you know, you just take your sweet time getting here." She paused, hearing his panicked breathing on the other end of the line. "Of course," she whispered, smiling wide. "You could stop screwing around and get me the Lone Star by five because you and I both know that there's no traffic and all you want is to hang with your gal."

Mitch, the beer vendor, sighed. "You're harder than your daddy, you know that, right?"

"I'm better than my daddy. See you in a few, bye!" She dropped the cordless phone back into the cradle, smiling at it. That was fun. This was fun.

Buddy leaned against the doorway, peering in. "Hey Daddy," she called, seeing him out of the corner of her eye. "What's going on?"

"You handled that…well."

"Yeah, well you and I both know Mitch's girlfriend lives in Laribee and he's just trying to get more time with her before he has to actually work." Lyla shoved a file into the cabinet behind her, turning back around and tugging an accounting book towards her. The numbers were looking pretty good. She glanced up. Buddy was still standing there. Great. "What's going on?"

Buddy frowned, walking into the office, turning around and closing the door behind him. Not that it mattered. It was just Angela and some of the early birds out there, drinking it up before the regulars and the high school kids trying to pass themselves off as 21 came in.

Uh-oh, he had that 'we need to talk' look.

Lyla folded her hands on the desk, waiting for his disapproval. It was painfully obvious that it was on its way.

He sat down across from her. It was funny that here she was, the daughter and the unofficial employee, sitting in the desk and the owner/manager of the bar sitting across from her in the guest's chair. Nice.

Her father waited a second and then shook his head, smothering her with flattery. "Lyla baby, you know I know you're smart and you like to keep yourself busy and I have always admired that in you, you are my daughter after all and we Garritys have to keep ourselves busy…"

Of course, or else we turn into drunks, cheaters, and gamblers, she thought, sighing. It couldn't be helped. It was in their blood.

Or we turn ourselves into the Riggins Whisperers, she thought, narrowing her eyes slightly. Well, she did, apparently. Buddy just hired them, whether for bartending or football coaches.

"Just say what you want to say Daddy," she whispered. She wasn't in the mood. Her stomach was beginning to hurt just at the very idea of this conversation. It required her to think about things she didn't want to acknowledge.

Buddy shook his head, whispering. "Lyla, baby what are you doing? Don't get me wrong, I love how you're helping me out in the bar, to be honest I only trust Tim with the management and I know he hates it here and he's only here because he needs fast cash to finish that house of his, which is fine, but he's not interested in taking over the bar and I don't trust Angela…"

Well I'm glad you closed the door, seeing as she is your girlfriend, you idiot, Lyla thought, shaking her head. She pursed her lips, not meeting his eyes. Like when she was a little girl and she was getting lectured on how to be the proper daughter. Sit pretty and fold your hands and always say 'thank you' and 'please' and 'yes ma'am' and 'no sir.'

No wonder I'm screwed up. Lyla tuned him out, while he continued to suck up to her, until she heard the words she knew he was going to say.

"Lyla you can't stay in Dillon forever."

You can't. Can't, can't, can't.

Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? She frowned, her eyebrows coming to a point in the center of her forehead. "I'm not staying in Dillon forever Daddy. I'm here for a few weeks, to take a break. I've been killing myself at school for the last four years, I need a break before I get to medical school and I'm busy again for another ten."

Buddy shook his head, whispering. "I just see you getting comfortable here is all. Shouldn't you be in Austin? Finding an apartment and getting your books?"

Yes and yes, but let's not talk about that right now.

"And then I see you spending time with Tim and don't get me wrong Lyla, I love him like a son, but I thought that you were over him. He seemed over you."

Well that's big of you Daddy, to take Tim on like a son. Seeing as you have one, even if he is in college now. Buddy Junior was hanging around with one of his friends, she thought his name was Hastings, what a name, out at Texas A&M.

This conversation seemed to occur whenever she came back. Last year at Christmas, when she'd seen him for the first time since she left freshman year, Buddy approached her with the same conversation. Terrified she might end up here.

It's not bad; it's not my greatest fear in life, to be back in Dillon, Texas. Maybe it's not what a kid like me, who was smart and deserved a chance to get out, should do, but it wasn't like she'd die if she found her way back here after having adventures elsewhere.

Not like Tyra, she thought idly.

She shrugged her shoulders, mumbling. "I'm not with Tim, Daddy. We're friends. We're…we have a history together."

"Yes, believe me Lyla, I know your history."

No you don't. No one does. Only the two of us know it and even then we have trouble making sense of it. Teenage kids should not be having adult relationships, which she always thought there's was, given so many of their problems.

Lyla needed to cut this off at the pass. She stood up, her fingertips on the desk blotter, cocking her head, her eyes on her father's, and her voice deadly serious. "Daddy, I'm going to UT in the fall. I'm going to medical school. Right now I'm helping you in the bar and I'm helping Tim with some personal stuff. We're not together, I'm not staying in Dillon, and that's final."

And she didn't believe one damn word she just said.

Well, at least she could recognize it.

She left the office, opening the door and going out into the bar, which was much busier than when she left. "Angela do you need some…" she trailed off, looking at the door, seeing Tim walk in, and striding towards her. Uh-oh. She looked up at him, whispering. "You okay?"

"No. Come on."

"What are you doing?"

"Come with me."

What in the hell? She followed after him, leaving her purse, keys, and phone in the office, since this seemed…urgent.

Tim let go of her hand when they got to his truck. "Get in," he said, climbing up into the front seat, shoving his sunglasses onto his eyes, barely waiting for her to get into the car before he was spinning the wheel, driving them away from the bar.

Lyla was used to his mood swings, but that didn't mean it was easy to deal with them.

She kept her mouth closed, not forcing anything or acting demanding, although it was incredibly rude of him to just grab her from where she was working, not say anything, or allow her to get her things.

They drove in complete silence for several minutes, until Tim pulled over at the football field. It was late afternoon on a Tuesday, so there was no practice or game or anyone milling about.

He climbed out, walking towards the gate, hopping over it and going towards the field, where he began to pace up and down, his hands fisted at his sides.

This was incredibly unusual.

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, walking over and sitting on the bleachers, crossing her legs, waiting for him. He jumped up onto the bleachers beside her and walked up and down one for a moment before he stilled. He just stared down at the field, at the stupid Jumbotron her father finally got and then towards the other side, at the sign that said 'Hermann Field" in large yellow letters.

She waited. And waited.

Tim finally came over, sitting beside her. "I had to come somewhere…where I could…think for a second. My house is too far away."

This place was always a home to him in high school, which Lyla thought he might have still been dealing with…all these emotions about his mother rising up. She cleared her throat, glancing towards the empty, pristine green field. "Tim what happened?"

"I talked to her."

Oh boy.

Lyla closed her eyes. She pushed everything she was dealing with, all the stupid insecurities about medical school, or her growing interest in her father's bar, and even her dad himself.

This was time to focus on him.

"What happened?" she whispered.

Tim shook his head, breathing slowly for a second, closing his eyes. "It's not what I thought…why she's here."

Well than why was she there? Lyla shrugged, voicing that question. "So what is it?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth, whispering. "You know…football."

Okay. They were going to do this. She'd known him long enough to understand that his mind wasn't linear sometimes. It was cluster thinking. This must have been one of those moments. Let's move on to football. That's why they were here, she figured. She reached for his hand, taking it and squeezing. "Football."

"Football," he whispered, glancing from one end to another. He pointed, to one of the yard lines, breathing. "That's where Jay broke his neck."

Yes, I remember.

"And that's where I dislocated my shoulder for the fifth time in a year."

And I remember that as well, because you dislocated it again two weeks later because you refused to wear the stupid sling and fell off the hood of your trunk, drunk. Jay and I had to take you to the hospital.

"Seven threw that pass…that awesome pass that one night, right there."

There were lots of awesome passes, so she wasn't sure where his mind was right now. Her eyes focused on him, not even looking at the football field. She squeezed his wrist, but he didn't return it. He glanced down the field again, whispering, his finger lifting. "Right there, see the end of the field?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Tim dropped his hand to his knee, leaning back slightly, studying it. He shook his head, breathing, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "That's the last place I saw my…my dad. And my mom."

Huh?

Lyla ran her fingers over his palm, her foot bopping up and down, barely touching his ankle, where it was side-by-side to hers. She frowned, waiting a second, but he didn't expand his line of thinking. Not that she fully expected he would. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He shook his head, still looking down at the end of the field. "My dad came to one of the games…the last time I saw him. At least he cared."

No Tim, he didn't care. She lifted her shoulders up slightly, sighing deeply. "Tim…he abused you and Billy."

"He didn't hit me…not like Billy."

You poor, damaged, and battered man, she thought, closing her eyes, hoping she wouldn't start crying. That didn't make it right. "Tim, he abused you. You were a kid. I may have been a dumb little girl thinking my mommy and daddy were the best in the world, that everything was kittens and rainbows and puppies, but I wasn't stupid. I saw the bruises on your arms in school. I knew what it meant."

He shifted on the bleachers, whispering, his eyes focusing ahead of him. "I know."

"And I know that he was more emotionally abusive with you than he was with Billy. Probably because you were so young."

He nodded slightly, mouthing 'yes.' Good, good, she thought, rubbing at his forearm. She closed her eyes. "What happened with your mom?"

"I was thirteen…we were playing out there…for practice. Thinking one day we'd be…Panthers." He sighed hard, leaning forward, elbows going to his knees, and his hands folding together, almost like he was praying, holding his fingers in front of his lips, and his eyes closed.

I used to think that too, hanging on the sidelines, in my little cheerleader uniform, dreaming of one day when I was a captain of the squad, and when I could be…well, at the time she was a straight-A student who only wanted to get a Mrs. degree. My how times have changed, she mused.

Tim whispered. "She left to get cigarettes, a couple days earlier. Got mad because I could make her the rum and cokes she drank like water but I couldn't go get her cigarettes for her, so…so she left. Didn't come back. Dad was gone too, on a bender somewhere. Billy was gone…"

"You were alone," she said. She shook her head, interrupting him. "That is not right Tim."

"I went to Jay's. When she didn't come back. Lied and said they went out of town. Pretty sure his parents knew."

Ignorance is bliss, Lyla thought. You might know but they didn't do anything about it. Probably weren't thrilled that their perfect son was best friends with a town screw-up.

"But a couple days later we were playing…some school, I don't even remember and…and I saw her." He sighed again, breathing. "I don't know why the last time they wanted to see me was out here, but it was."

"I do."

He turned his head away from the field, towards her. "Oh yeah?"

Lyla nodded. At least, she was pretty sure she knew. She squeezed is wrist again. "This was where you were happiest Tim. There's a reason you were good…even when you were hungover or drunk or just not even in the mood to apply yourself. There's a reason that someone who isn't…my dad always wondered sometimes why you were a good fullback because you were big but you weren't…weren't big. You channeled all that anger into football."

"You coped," she said, putting it into easier words for him to understand. She smiled. "Tim your pain from your parents…you dealt with it out here. You drank, yeah. You drank to drink and you slept around and you got in fights, but you let out most everything else here and you were good…you could have been better if you didn't want to drink."

He nodded, whispering. "Not that good."

"Tim, shut up. You were All-American. You were scouted. I don't care what Jason said about how common it was, but you got letters from tons of colleges, really good colleges, wanting you to play for them. Maybe they didn't care, but I know I did."

"You cared too much."

She let go of him, shoving her hands beneath her hips, whispering. "Don't talk to me like that."

Now he needed to lash out. I know how it goes. Tim glared sideways at her. "You always pushed me to do what I didn't want to do."

"I'm not listening to this." She stood up quickly, jabbing a finger into his shoulder, knocking him backwards slightly, raising her voice, which echoed in the empty stands. "I loved you! Idiot! I wanted you to be the best person in the world! To have what your father and your mother should have wanted for you! What someone wanted for you!"

He sighed, looking up at her. "You don't have to yell."

Yes, I do have to yell. "Don't tell me what to do," she threatened, pacing. She laughed, pushing her hand through her hair, her voice rising, but no longer yelling. She just got so frustrated when he got like this. "I was the idiot girl who loved Tim Riggins. I'm sorry, maybe I pushed you to places you didn't want to go, but I wasn't changing you Tim. All I wanted to do was show you that there was this other world out there and let you figure it out from there. You didn't even want that much and…and I finally realized that…I couldn't…couldn't keep you from that. You weren't ever going to leave and I just…forget it."

She stepped off the bleachers. This was stupid. He wasn't going to tell her about his mother. All she ever did was waste time on him. Talking about what happened to them didn't matter anymore either. It wasn't like they were getting back together.

"My sister's name is Sophie Rose McConnell."

Now we're getting somewhere.

Lyla turned on her heel, crossing her arms over her chest, standing on the sidelines. "Okay."

Tim got up to his feet, hopping off the bleachers, walking towards her, his hands on his hips. He touched his toes to hers, glancing down. He shook his head, his eyes closed. "She was outside the bar, I just…got mad that she was there so…I went over. Talked to her…"

"And?"

He sighed, looking up and down the field once more, finally meeting his eyes to hers. "It's not what I thought."

Huh? Lyla cocked her head. She frowned, shifting her weight on her feet. "Tim…what?"

"It's not what I thought, why she came back. I…it's not what I thought."

"Well what did you think?"

Tim sighed, shaking his head, whispering. "Come on, let's go back to my house."

Guess I still have to wait, Lyla thought, walking with him out of the football stadium, going over to his truck. She paused on the door handle, lifting her eyes to peer at him through the open windows. He was fiddling with his sunglasses, which were hanging from the collar of his t-shirt. "Tim? Does she want money?"

He shook his head, whispering. "No, no she doesn't money."

"Does she want anything?"

Emotions twisted on his face, but he shook his head slightly. "Not really…not…not like you're thinking."

This is like getting blood from a stone. Lyla walked around to the other side of the truck, taking the keys from his pocket. "I'm driving. You're too upset. Come on, let's go home."

"Home."

"Yes, your home."

Tim nodded, walking over to the other side and climbing up beside her. He pushed his fingers through his hair, sitting in the passenger side. "I have a home."

How terribly sad was that?

Lyla nodded, squeezing his hand as hard as she possibly could, looking into his eyes, which still seemed so vacant. "Yes Tim. You have a home. You built your home on your own, most people don't have to do that, but you did. Now…we're going to go home."

"Okay."

They drove away, with Lyla thinking that she couldn't meet his mother right now. Maybe not in the next few days. Maybe not ever, depending on the reason for why she'd been following him or want to come back to his life.

If she did, she might kill the woman for what she'd helped do to him.


	7. Musing

**A/N:**Posting this chapter a night earlier, because I won't have time in the morning. Made some edits to the fic; Tyra doesn't appear until a little later, but she does have a small role to play with Lyla. Enjoy and thank you for the reviews. :)

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**Chapter 7: Musing**

Tim sat down at the dock, in one of the porch chairs Lyla had dragged down there, with a beer in his fingertips, a rock in his hand. He studied it and then threw it into the water, watching it skip once before disappearing beneath the surface into the pond.

He slumped farther back in the chair, his legs outstretched, and feet hanging over the edge of the dock. What he kind of wanted to do was just jump in and scream when he got to the bottom. Or maybe he'd just drive out to the edge of his land and scream there.

Hell, he could just scream right now.

That wasn't really his thing though. He didn't get loud. He just got drunk, right? He guzzled down the last of the beer bottle, tossing it into the cooler beside him, reaching for another.

"How many is that now?"

"Not counting."

Lyla grabbed the bottle from him, opening the top. "Thanks," he said, but she just fell back into the other chair, sipping from the bottle. He scowled. "That was mine."

"You shouldn't be drinking."

"No Garrity, I should be drinking."

"No, you shouldn't."

"Don't you have school?" God, he hated how she'd been just hanging around Dillon. Dillon was his town. Not hers. Not anyone else's, it was his. She should be leaving, going somewhere else. He stared out at the water, whispering. "Why do you care about this?"

"I've told you before, I'm not getting into it again."

"You didn't come visit me after jail." Or in jail. Not that I wrote you. Or wanted you to be there. He smiled slightly, digging the knife into the wound. "Tyra did."

"Tyra is your sister-in-law. She was visiting you guys. I was in study abroad in Switzerland, I couldn't help you."

"Tyra and I were going to be together." No we weren't. She felt sorry for me, she went along with it, until he confronted her on the last visit about her so-called 'visits.' He was sick of being used. So she ran away and now Angela and Mindy blame me for pushing her away again. Of course.

Lyla flinched a little, whispering. "I don't…Tim…please don't do this. I know you're hurting, but this isn't you. You don't do this."

No, he didn't. It wasn't him. It felt weird even as he was saying those things. He glanced sideways again, his arms draped over the arms of the porch chair. She was seated primly in the chair, her legs crossed, in her fancy jeans, sandals and a Buddy's t-shirt. What did he ever see in her?

She was so not his type. Not that he really had a type beyond a woman who was legal. Garrity was just…completely opposite of everything he'd ever seen in other girls.

So what was it he saw?

A very nice person who cared about everyone. Who helped ducks cross the road and saw the good in everything and had that wild, dark streak running not so deep beneath the surface, which no one but him usually got to see. Who looked at him and didn't see drunk Tim Riggins, the kid with no parents.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Anne. He couldn't think of her like his mother, not…not right now. It had been stilted. Quiet. In the parking lot. He'd agreed to talk to her later…she wanted to see him again. He'd agreed.

It wasn't what he thought.

What she told him…he dug his fingers into the armrest. "She's sick."

Lyla closed her eyes, making a sound of distress.

Anne didn't get into it with him, he imagined that's what they still had to talk about, but…he could tell, when he saw her in person. He relayed the information. Garrity was some sort of bioscience person now. Not that he ever figured she'd be into that. "Something with her liver. All that drinking. Smoking."

"And she…she wanted to see me." That's all she'd said.

_Timmy, I just wanted to see you…I just wanted to see you again, that's it, I swear_.

He imagined it would come up later. The money she wanted for some treatment or something. Forgiveness. A clear conscience in case she was dyign or something. She hadn't said anything about that. All she'd done was say she was sorry and say that she just wanted to see him, she didn't want to cause trouble.

It wasn't what he thought. He didn't think she'd come find him because she was sick…he didn't think she'd come find him because she wanted him to know his sister. Or because she wanted to just see him.

Lyla sighed. "Did you tell her you wanted to see her again?"

Did he want to see her again? He thought he didn't. Until he said he did. Surprising even himself. He nodded, whispering. "Yes."

"When?"

'Tomorrow."

"Where?"

"Here." He dug his heel into the edge of the dock. Probably would get a splinter but oh well. There was a deer or something, on the other side of the pond, watching him from the trees. There were all kinds of wildlife around here. He liked it. Maybe he'd get a dog.

I love this place. It's all mine.

The first and only thing that had ever, truly been his.

He glanced towards Lyla, who was twirling the beer bottle around in her fingers. She cared so damn much. One of these days it was going to be the death of her. Why wasn't she at school? He couldn't figure that out.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the pond. "I…can you…" he sighed. Just say it Tim. "Can you be here tomorrow?"

Lyla nodded, almost immediately. "Yes." She set the bottle on the dock, her hands folding in her lap. "Are you going to tell Billy?"

Billy.

Mindy probably was already telling him, probably as they spoke. "I guess I have to tell him." Billy was his family. Billy, Mindy, and Tyra. Buddy was as well. Becky and Luke…

Lyla.

He closed his eyes, digging his fingers hard into the chair, getting up and looking out at the pond. He reached down for his shirt, taking it off. "Come on," he said, toeing off his flip-flops. "Get in."

"Tim, are you serious?"

"Never more serious."

"It's getting dark!"

"So?" He'd make a fire afterward; he didn't care. It was hot, sticky, and he wanted to go swim. He needed to clear his head and right now she wasn't letting him drink and it was getting dark, so he couldn't just sit and look out at the land.

Lyla stood up, kicking off her boots and tugging off her t-shirt. "We doing just underwear or is this full on skinnydipping?"

He shucked off his boxers, diving into the water.

"Guess I have my answer!" she yelled.

He went all the way to the bottom, but he didn't scream, just waited a second until his lungs were burning for air, before he surfaced, pushing his hands through his hair, looking around. "Lyla?" he called, treading water. Where did she go?

There was a pink bra hanging from the edge of the dock. Well that answered that.

Lyla popped up beside him, her hair slicked back from her face, smiling. "I haven't been skinnydipping in years!"

He smiled slightly, wrapping his arms around her. She stilled, her hands on his face. He was going to let go of her, to swim away, but she leaned in, kissing him, moving closer against him.

They were going to drown, he thought, his arms wrapping around her, trying to tread the water and hold her at the same time, but they just fell beneath the surface a few times, laughing and trying to remain kissing. He broke the kiss a second later, whispering against her mouth. "We should go back to the house."

"No," she whispered, pushing way and floating back for a second. "Tell me what your mom said."

This was a bit of a strange time to be doing that. He floated backwards, resting his head backwards, staring up at the dark sky. With stars. He liked that you could see all the stars on a clear night. "I told you."

"How did it make you feel?"

What was this, shrink time? He swam towards her, but she just disappeared beneath the water, emerging a few feet away, smiling. He shook his head, sighing. "How did it make me feel? Who cares?"

"I care."

Of course you care. He dove beneath the water, swimming towards her, rising up next to her. "Let's go back to the house."

A wet Lyla was a slippery Lyla. She smiled, dunking beneath the water again, right out of his arms, showing up near the dock. "Were you angry?"

Angry? Who wouldn't be angry? Not him, though. He'd thought that was weird. He shrugged. "I wasn't angry."

"You saw your mother. She abandoned you, Tim. It had to make you angry to see her again after all this time. She didn't…she got married and she was happy and she had this other family." Lyla's voice quieted, barely able to be heard over the sound of the water lapping at the dock. "She had your sister."

Sister.

Yeah, it was hard to think of that in real terms. He had a sister, yeah. Her name was Mindy Collette-Riggins. He had another sister and her name was Becky Sproles. They were his sisters.

Then there was this other girl.

Literally, a girl. Five-years old.

He turned away from her, climbing up the ladder onto the dock, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on over his wet skin. "You hungry? Want to get pizza or something?" He shook his wet hair back, raking his fingers through it. "Come on inside, it's going to get cold."

"Don't tell me what to do."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not telling you what to do!"

"Tim, your mother shows up after ten years, you do some research on her and find out she's had this other life, and she's sick, what do you mean she's sick? She follows you around, she doesn't want to approach you until you suddenly go up to her and now…." Lyla sighed hard, still floating in the water. The sun was almost completely gone over the horizon. The water around her looked like glass. She shrugged. "That has to make you angry. Or sad. Or something!"

Or something.

He sighed. They weren't going to get out of this until he said something. "Fine! You know what Garrity? It pisses me off."

"Pisses you off?"

"Yes, it pisses me off." Maybe I am angry. Mad. Sad. Whatever. It was like she was putting one of Stevie or Nicky or Ricky's toys in front of him that had little smiley faces or unhappy faces and they had to point to which one it was and say the emotion. Mindy used it to get them to admit when they were upset or pissed at her.

My mother shows up out of nowhere, can't even come talk to me until I confront her, and now she's telling me she's sick.

She's sick and she wants me to know my sister.

Cancer. That's what it was, but she didn't use the words. All she said was that she was at stage three. That was a bad stage, he thought. Liver cancer. She just wanted to see him.

_"I don't want anything from you. I just wanted to see you before…in case…just in case."_

Before she died? He'd gotten that in so many words.

_"Um…I have a daughter, I…I felt you should know…her name is Sophie Rose. She…she's five. She's at a…a summer camp right now, but she's going to be coming home soon. We live in Austin now…I would like…you don't…this is all on you but I would like you to meet her, I just…didn't know when the right time was to tell you."_

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her in the water. "I think she wants me to take care of my sister." Anne hadn't asked him for anything. Money or forgiveness, but she'd made that comment. If she was dying…he didn't know what to think of it all.

When you thought you'd lost everything, you thought of things. Regrets, mostly. That's what he thought, when he was lying in that prison cell, staring at the ceiling or the roof of the bunk bed above him. He thought of things he didn't do.

He channeled his anger into Billy. I did the right thing for Billy's kid and for Billy and now my life is ruined because of it. Then he got out and saw how horrible Billy still could act. Just blow off work. Letting Becky work at a strip club. He hated him even more.

Now and then he still got angry with him. Still blamed some things on Billy, whether they were his fault or not, but…he'd gotten better. He was a good dad. The boys were loved. They wouldn't grow up like their father or uncle.

So he imagined that Anne was feeling regretful about him. It was funny; she hadn't said a thing about Billy. Billy wasn't the one she was following. Billy wasn't the one whose house she was sitting out in front of.

He wondered if that's why he didn't want to tell Billy all this.

He turned away from Lyla, walking back towards the house. Several minutes later, she appeared in the kitchen, dripping wet, her clothes sticking to her. She closed the screen door behind her.

Reaching into the small freezer at the top of his fridge, he removed a bottle of vodka. Not that he drank it often, but this was a topic for hard liquor. He poured the both of them a glass, holding it up and staring at the clear, freezing liquid. "Well," he whispered, clinking it against hers. "To tomorrow."

"She's dying, right?"

Tim nodded, taking a sip, feeling his throat catch fire. He swallowed hard, the vodka sending his blood curling at the chill. He closed his eyes, whispering. "She's dying, yeah, I think so."

"She wants to make amends, before she dies. That's good Tim. You just have to know that you don't need to feel obligated to forgive her for what she did. Then she will have to live with that."

Yeah, I know. He wasn't sure if he did or not, but…was it worth it to hold that anger? He hadn't thought of her in ten years. Then a few days ago, there she was. Now it was all he could think about. How he felt about her or how it was after she left. The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Not that there was much to end.

He took another drink of vodka, setting the glass down and walking over to Lyla, taking her glass and putting it on the counter. He lifted her up, setting her on the kitchen island, reaching his arms around to hug her.

Lyla returned the hug, her head resting against his. She whispered. "She's dying, she's probably not sure what's going to happen to her daughter and…and I can't fault her for wanting to reach out. So her daughter knows that she has brothers."

"A good brother," Lyla continued, pulling away, her forehead touching his, whispering. "A very good man, who through all his flaws has always been there for people he loves and cares about. Who is loyal and kind and rather than lash out with his pain, lets people hurt him instead. You're just…Tim you're so good. I know you hate hearing me say that and you don't believe it, but it's true. You're a good guy and I know it and I've always known it."

Yes, she always did. The good girl who would always say hello to him, who would always talk to him…always let him know when she was upset with him and when she was…he just wanted to fix it because it meant something wasn't right.

He kissed her lightly, breathing deep. What was going on with them?

"You need to tell Billy."

I know I do.

"What do you want right now Tim?" She folded her hands around his face, her nose brushing across his. Her voice was breathy. "What do you want?"

I want you. Just you. He didn't want to feel anything about his mother or his sister or Billy or anything else. Right now he just wanted her.

And right now he didn't want to think about how once again they were delaying the inevitable separation. This wasn't something that could last, he thought sadly. It was always just going to be this thing that confined only to Dillon. No more and no less than that. No matter how 'adult' their emotions felt.

No matter how much they loved each other.

Lyla sighed again, asking the same question.

He didn't answer her this time, not verbally anyway.

Instead, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her towards the stairs.

There, Garrity, he thought. That's what I want.

And what's sad was that she knew it without having to ask again.


	8. The Visit

**Chapter 8: The Visit**

I can't believe Billy hasn't stopped by or called or anything. It seemed so strange, the two brothers not speaking in this long of a time. Four days. Almost unheard of.

Of course, a lot had changed now that she'd been back.

Lyla sat on the front porch, wrapping her arms around herself, staring at the driveway. She had a cup of coffee beside her, growing cold.

She had to go to her dad's house and get some more clothes. Right now she had boxes scattered in storage and at his house from the small apartment she'd shared in Nashville the last three years with four other girls. Most of the furniture was all theirs, but she had clothes, books, and other assorted crap that she didn't know what to do with.

There were some of her clothes in the car, but right now she was subsisting off of her jeans from yesterday and a shirt she'd found in her car, maybe from when she'd gone to the gym and hadn't changed out of her workout clothes or something.

Anne was supposed to show up soon; Lyla didn't know why she was referring to her by her first name, probably because Tim wasn't calling her his mother. He just said 'Anne.' Of course, he'd also said it like a grand total of four times.

How was it possible that a week ago they were barely looking at each other without flushing and running away and now she was sitting on his porch, waiting on his mother to show up?

The appearance of her in the bar four days ago really did something. It flipped everything on its end. It was inevitable though, that she was going to leave. She was going to get in her car and go to Austin and only see him on breaks. Which wasn't a relationship, because afterward, she would go somewhere else.

Or not. Who knew?

Lyla reached over to the windowsill for her cold coffee, making a face at the taste. "Gross." She got up, disappearing into the house. She heard rock music blasting from a room upstairs, along with the banging of a hammer and whir of a drill. This morning she'd woken up to those sounds; she hadn't said a word when she found him working in one of the rooms, adding molding to the ceiling and floor.

She heard the hammering stop and then an immediate cut-off of the rock music. After a few minutes, she thought she heard the shower running.

She sat at the kitchen island, opening up her computer, ignoring a notice from the bookstore that she still had to pick up the books she'd put on hold or else they were going to put them back to the shelf and there was no guarantee that she'd be able to get them again.

There was also another notice from the student-housing department, that she'd missed the window to obtain student housing for graduate and professional students, so she had to find her own.

And I'm probably too late on that as well, but she didn't start opening up the links that the housing department suggested for apartments near campus. Instead, she opened up the website for the University of Texas School of Business.

Business.

It appealed to her more than medicine. As much as she wanted to help people and as much as she'd devoted her time and energy to her studies at Vanderbilt…it didn't seem as practical, but…she nibbled at her lip, studying the course load and the tuition. It was too late to apply for fall semester…she'd have to wait a whole year.

A year wouldn't be so bad.

She could take a break from life…she hadn't had a break in four years.

"What are you doing?"

Lyla slammed down the lid of the computer. "Nothing." Damn. She said that too fast.

Tim stood in front of her, shirtless, holding said shirt in his hand. He frowned at the computer. "You looking at porn or something?"

"What? No!"

"Because if you are, it's not that big a deal."

"If I'm going to look at porn, I'll just look at you," she snapped, but she smiled a little, nodding to him. She cocked her head. "Heard you working up there this morning."

Tim shrugged, buttoning up his shirt. He tied his wet hair back from his face, walking over to the small fridge on the countertop, opening it up and taking out milk. He walked to the cabinets, plucking out a bowl and a box of Lucky Charms, sitting across from her. "Yeah, well…needs to get done."

"You've come pretty far. Last year you didn't even have the upstairs finished."

"Had to get help with that, needed to wait to summer."

Last summer she'd gone to Europe with her boyfriend. She broke up with him when they got back to Vanderbilt because he cheated on her while they were in France together. He spent his summer building a house while she spent it getting cheated on.

She opened up the computer, turning it around to face him, pointing. "I'm thinking of going."

Tim shoved his spoon into the mountain of Lucky Charms he'd poured into his bowl. He took a few bites, reading the page for the school of business. "Thought you wanted to be a doctor."

Not, you shouldn't do it or anything, but he thought she wanted to be a doctor.

"I don't know, I did, but…" She didn't realize just how much she enjoyed the business side of things until she came back and began to help with the bar. She bit at her lower lip, whispering. "It's just a thought."

"Medical school is hard, huh?"

"Yeah, so I've been told."

"Lots of studying. Lots of time."

"Yeah."

Tim shrugged again, speaking through Lucky Charms. "Figure if you're gonna' do that you better want it is all." He spooned up some more marshmallows, smiling at it. "I always get a kick how these don't really look like shooting stars."

I'm taking life advice from a grown man eating Lucky Charms and commenting on the marshmallows. Lyla closed down her computer, folding her arms in front of her on the counter. She bit her lower lip. "You tell Billy about this at all?"

"Told Mindy."

"That your mother is coming to the house today?"

"No."

"Tim."

Tim shook his head, whispering, lowering his eyes to the bowl. "He wouldn't come anyway. Figured I'd save him the trouble."

Or save yourself from Billy's 'I told you so' if this turned out bad, she thought. Lyla looked up when there was knocking on the front door.

Very tentative knocking.

How had they missed the sound of the car coming up? Lyla looked at him, frozen on the stool, looking down at the bowl in front of him. She cleared her throat, climbing down and walking over. "I'll get her. You come out when you're ready."

He nodded quickly.

"Okay."

Lyla walked by him, down the corridor and to the front door, with its grandmother glass oval pane. Okay Garrity. This is it. Don't kill the woman. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, reaching to pull it back.

The woman on the other side was the same from the bar, of course, but Lyla could definitely see that the last couple of days had changed something. She seemed more tired. There were more lines around her eyes and lips. Her hair was pulled back from her face into a twist; the streaks of gray and silver giving it an elegant, frosted appearance.

She was beautiful, Lyla had to give her that. She had Tim's eyes, the same hazel color, trending more towards green. It stood out, because she was wearing a green blouse with a pair of khaki capris and slip-on sandals that Lyla recognized were a designer brand.

As was the purse on her shoulder. She had a thin gold necklace on and bracelet. There were a couple of rings on her thin fingers.

"Is Tim here?" the woman asked. Her voice was rather husky for a woman, but Lyla thought that might have been from all the smoking she'd done over the years. It sounded a little like Tim.

Lyla wondered just how much of Anne was in her son.

Lyla nodded quickly, glancing over her shoulder and then stepped out onto the porch, forcing Anne to step backwards while she closed the door behind her. "Yes," she answered. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, he's here, but he's…he's taking a moment. Would you like to have a seat?"

She gestured politely towards either the porch swing or the bench that sat beneath one of the large windows.

"Oh…al-alright," Anne stammered, taking a seat on the bench, placing her purse beside her knee, holding it there. She frowned slightly, but then smiled shakily. "You're…you're his…"

Well that's the $64,000 question, isn't it? "Friend," Lyla said. She folded her fingers between her knees, sitting on the porch swing and keeping her feet planted to the floor to stop it from moving backwards. She smiled politely again. "I've known Tim since we were little. Lyla Garrity."

"Oh, yes of course, the Garritys. Your father is Buddy, right?"

How do you know my father, Lyla wondered, hoping it wasn't how Buddy knew most of the woman in town. Anne clarified, probably because she saw the panicked look on her face. "I...Tim's father knew him, briefly…from football."

Of course. Football. Wasn't that how everyone knew each other in this town?

Lyla nodded quickly. "Yes, well, my father's pretty active in the football culture here."

"Almost everyone is."

Yes, very astute. Lyla cleared her throat again, whispering. "So you live in Austin?"

"Yes, um, Georgetown, actually."

Lyla nodded. It was obvious now that she knew. Anne was sick, painfully obviously so. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was scary skinny. Her skin had a pale yellow tint to it. She took a deep breath again. "I understand you have a daughter?"

"Yes, um…Sophie. She's five. She's in Austin at summer camp." Anne reached into her purse, removing a small booklet, passing it towards her. Her voice was sad, almost verging on tears. "I brought this for Tim, but I didn't know if he'd…well I can understand why he wouldn't want a thing to do with it."

Well I want to know. Lyla took it, flicking the top up and smiling down at a baby photo of a little girl with dark hair and a wide smile. She continued to thumb through, while Anne sat in silence.

The photos were of a very happy child, which was obvious. Every single one of them had her smiling. Lyla reached the end, of a little girl sitting in some flowers, wearing a sundress, her head cocked and grinning. She had long dark hair, almost black, and pale skin. Her eyes were the exact same hazel-green and she smiled just like Tim, her eyes crinkled up with the corners of her mouth.

In fact, she resembled him quite a bit. She could be his daughter, Lyla thought briefly. She closed the top of the booklet, passing it back to Anne. "She's beautiful."

The front door opened and Anne stood quickly, but Lyla remained seated.

Tim closed the door behind him. "Hi," he whispered. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. "You found the house."

"Yes, it's lovely. You've done it yourself?"

"Yes." Tim glanced at her, whispering. He pointed. "This is Lyla."

Anne nodded. "We met."

"Lyla's my…"

"Friend," Lyla repeated from earlier. She moved over on the porch swing, waiting for Tim to sit beside her. He slouched backwards, his arms crossing over his chest. Like a sullen teenager. She perched herself at the edge of the swing. Best to take charge of this.

She cleared her throat. "Okay, so um…Tim, do you…want to say anything to your…to Anne?"

Tim glanced at his mother, waiting a beat. Anne looked tortured, Lyla thought, like she was on the verge of tears. "Why are you here?" he repeated. He sat up a little. "Yesterday, you said you were sick. So what do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to…to see you again."

"You could have stayed."

Anne nodded her head quickly, whispering, and her voice cracking. "I could have stayed, yes. If I stayed though…do you think…think you'd have this?"

"Don't do that," Tim said. He shook his head, already seeing the line of thought. "Don't do that whole, you hadn't left, we wouldn't be better off. We weren't. You left me."

"I know, I did and I…I can't ever say I'm sorry enough," Anne breathed. She wiped quickly at her eyes, leaning forward on the arm of the bench, trying to reach for him without having to actually do it. "Tim, I just…I am so sorry for what I did to you and to…to Billy…I know that it wasn't easy with your father and I'm so sorry, but I can't ask you to forgive me for that."

That surprised Lyla, who turned her head towards Tim, who seemed surprised as well. He frowned. "Why not?" he whispered.

"Because," Anne said. As though it were obvious. "I can't ask you to forgive me, because I can't forgive myself. If I can't do that, then you're certainly not going to be able to forgive me and you shouldn't have to. I just wanted to see you…before…"

She ran her tongue over her teeth, closing her eyes. "I have liver cancer, it's…it's stage three, but…I'm…I'm not going to…"

Oh no, Lyla thought, closing her lips into a thin line. This changed things.

Anne shook her head, tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes. "My sins have caught up with me Tim. I have stage three liver cancer and I just…I don't know if I want to continue with my treatments."

Lyla's breath hitched in her throat. She reached for Tim's wrist, resting her fingertips on his pulse. It was racing. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. It never was enough. It was always just a gesture to apologize for someone else's pain.

Anne nodded, whispering. "Thank you." She reached into her bag, taking out the small booklet of photos. She clutched them against her knees. "When you...you hear those words...cancer...Tim…you think of things and I just…I thought of you and I…I wanted to see how you were doing and everything and…I finally got the nerve to seek you out."

"You know Billy has kids, right?" Tim interrupted. He shifted, his voice quiet. "Billy has three boys. He's married. Why aren't you following him around? Why aren't you telling this to him?"

Why me, Lyla wondered, on behalf of him.

The other woman seemed a bit confused, but, when she provided her answer, Lyla kind of agreed with her line of thinking. "Billy already…Billy was twenty when I left, Tim. He…he doesn't…he's already made up his mind on me and…and I didn't leave him to be taken care of by someone else. Billy was already gone."

In other words, Lyla thought, translating it slightly. Billy was an adult, Billy already hated her, and Billy was never going to change his mind. Not that she wanted to change it. He wasn't thirteen. He wasn't just a kid, who still needed someone to buy his clothes, food, and drive him around.

To love him.

Tim shook his head, whispering. "Billy is still my brother. He still deserves to know about…about her."

"Yes," Anne said quickly. She nodded, whispering. "Yes. I…I have some photos if you want to see them…" She turned it towards him.

Tim took the booklet, flicking to a couple of the pictures, but Lyla knew he was barely seeing it. It wasn't real to him like it was to her. He shut the booklet, passing it back over. "Nice."

"I just wanted to see you and…and see how you were doing, I'm not asking for anything. I didn't want to upset your life…" Anne trailed off. She blinked quickly. "I wanted you to know about Sophie, I just…I wasn't prepared to do this yet. I wanted to wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Just…just wait," she hiccupped, covering her mouth with her hand. She stood up quickly, taking a few steps towards the edge of the porch, turning on her heel, reaching to lift her purse up over her shoulder. The breeze pushed a few strands of her hair across her face. "I…I'd like you to meet her, if that is what you want. She's…she's not a part of what I was before. That woman was….well Tim I don't know who she was, but that was me and I did awful things and I am so sorry, but that doesn't change matters. Sophie had nothing to do with what I did, I'd like you to meet your sister…because soon I'm not going to be around and I don't want her to be your age and finding out about all this and…and I want her to have family."

Tim stood up, walking over and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked away, at the road. A car drove by, headed towards Dillon. He dropped his chin forward, whispering. "Okay."

Lyla felt relief wash over her shoulders. She was so glad he'd agreed to meet her. Anne was right, whatever her sins, Sophie wasn't a part of them. Sophie didn't deserve it.

"But," he said. He nodded towards a car driving up the way. "You have to tell Billy yourself."

Oh no, Lyla thought, getting up, looking out at Billy, who was waving, completely oblivious to what he was walking into. She stepped back, waiting for him to walk forward.

This was going to be interesting


	9. Big Brother

**Chapter 9: Big Brother**

It felt like a million years for Billy to walk from his car towards the porch.

Tim wasn't sure how to do this. He didn't even know how he was doing this right now. He'd told Mindy, but that was it. Apparently Billy didn't know, otherwise he probably shouldn't have seemed so carefree, getting out of his truck with beer and a bag that probably had game tape.

"Hey Timmy, I got us a six-pack and some game film to go over, you want to come to practice tomorrow…" Billy trailed off, approaching the porch a bit more slowly, drawing back slightly when he spotted the three of them looking at him. He was in his Dillon High uniform of khaki shorts, tennis shoes, and blue polo shirt and a blue baseball hat. He stopped, looking up at Anne.

Who looked much less petrified. "Anne," Billy said, his voice cold.

"Hello William."

"Billy," he corrected.

Anne didn't say anything. She looked down at her feet and then towards him. "How…how are you?"

"I'm good." Billy rounded on Tim, pointing at her and ignoring her. "Tim, what is she doing here? Did you find her?" he demanded.

"No." He shifted on his feet. He frowned. Mindy knew. Wasn't it her job to tell Billy things? Not hide anything, that's what she said, they didn't hide anything and here he was, four days later, and still had no idea. "Mindy didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? She said she had something important to tell me but…" he trailed off, closing his eyes briefly. His voice was filled with hurt. "You told Mindy but not me?"

They could get into a blame game later, because that could go on forever, Tim thought, and he didn't want Anne here any longer than she had to be here, for his sake, for Billy's, and for Anne's.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Billy seemed less…surprised to see their mother standing on his front porch than maybe he should have been. Of course, Billy was a bit better at hiding his emotions about their parents. He had been around them longer, he'd learned to deal with it better, Tim supposed.

And like a good brother, in a twisted way, he didn't let Tim know just how horrible the both of them had been to him, because maybe since he was the 'baby', he got off relatively easy when it came to their mother and father.

However, right now, all he could think of was Billy's warnings about their dad…and how he ignored all of them and look where that ended. Thing was, Billy never warned about their mother.

Maybe he knew she wouldn't ever come back.

Or maybe he knew she'd always planned on leaving; it wasn't all bad with their mother.

Anne tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, moving nervously, her bracelet shaking on her wrist. It was the same nervous tic he got sometimes. He gestured towards her, whispering down at Billy. "I didn't go looking for her, she came looking for me."

"For Tim?" Billy snapped. He pointed his finger at her. His voice hardened. "I don't want you coming to the house. You don't get to see the kids."

"I don't want to cause trouble," Anne breathed. She seemed very small, her voice faint. She closed her eyes, taking a few breaths, which Tim could hear rattling in her throat. He noticed all the little things that showed she was sick. Her skin, hair…and now her breathing.

She met his eyes. The same eyes.

This is your issue, not mine, Tim thought. He glanced at Billy, who was just staring. "Tell him," he whispered.

That's why you're here, right? Make amends and all that crap. You got both of us in front of you, so tell him.

"Tell me what?" Billy ordered.

Anne closed her eyes, a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye. She reached into her purse, taking out the booklet, passing it towards Billy, who didn't go for it. "I came to tell Tim that I'm sick and to show him this."

"You're sick?"

"Cancer," Anne said. She was still holding out the booklet, her voice slightly stronger now. "Liver…I'm getting treatment, but…take this, please, William."

Billy snorted, setting down the beer and the game film, taking the booklet from her, lifting it up. "What's this? Family photos or something? Something that should make me feel sorry for you abandoning us? I know Dad was bad, but you just left me with a kid!"

My fault, Tim thought again. He lowered his head, feeling like he was sixteen again, with Billy yelling at him. He looked up, whispering when he heard Billy's sharp intake of breath. "That's our sister."

Sister. It felt a little easier to think of her that way.

He kind of wanted to meet her, now that he saw the pictures.

And if Anne was going to die soon... A five-year old didn't deserve that. To have one parent in jail and the other dead? How could she be expected to understand that? She couldn't. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair to have a kid growing up without parents. Like them.

Anne lifted her voice, speaking over Billy's protests, trying to shove the booklet back at her. "She's five, her father is in prison and when he gets out, he is ensured to have no contact to her."

Where will she go, Tim wondered, if you die?

"I don't care," Billy snapped. He glared at him, whispering. "I thought you were my brother."

I thought you were my brother too. "I am," he whispered.

"You should have told me the second you saw her!"

No, you don't get to do this. Tim was already shaking his head, feeling the resentment rearing its ugly head again. "No," he whispered, keeping his head down. You don't get to do this.

"You're my brother, you should have told me, you owe me that much, you should have told!"

"And you should have followed the damn law!" he yelled. He drew back almost immediately; surprised he'd said that. That card hadn't come up in a long time. It never made him feel good to use it.

Even if right now it did feel a better time than ever to pull out the 'I went to jail for you' card. He jumped off the porch, pushing at Billy's shoulder, immediately seeing that Billy was shutting down, looking off at nothing now that that had been brought up. "Yeah, you wanna' tell Mommy about that, huh?"

Anne shook her head, whispering. "What's going on?"

"Tim!" Lyla barked.

Hell, he'd forgotten Garrity was standing there. He turned away from Billy, looking at Lyla's frown and Anne's confusion. Billy's guilt, still rearing its ugly head. He looked at his mother, his heart racing in his chest. "You do your research on me?"

His mother closed her eyes, nodding slightly. "Yes. I read about it."

Of course you did. "And you didn't come find me?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to see you in there, like that." And she would be right, he thought, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

Billy pushed at his shoulders, knocking him away. He pointed at Anne, whispering. "If you want to do this, I can't stop you. You saw what happened with Dad when I warned you. You know that this is only going to end in…in misery Timmy. A sister? You want to bring her into this mess?"

It's not her fault that she's going to be alone, he thought again. He couldn't let go of that fact. He glanced at his mother, who had closed her eyes, holding her bag to her chest. She was sick. "I'm not forgiving her," he said to Billy, shaking his head, whispering. "And she's not asking me to forgive her."

"Neither did Dad."

"Yeah, but Dad wasn't dying of cancer," Tim said, putting it into those stark terms. He didn't know what went on up in God's mind, but he figured that God knew what to do and what not to do. If Anne believed that this was her sins catching up to her, he wouldn't tell her otherwise, and he didn't know whether that was the case or not.

Besides, he sought out Dad. Dad didn't seek him out.

What he would do; however, was not blame a five-year old, who was soon going to be without a mother and a father.

Just like me.

And like me, all she has is a brother. Two brothers.

He glanced at the ground, digging in boot heel into the dirt. "Where is she now?"

"Tim," Billy warned.

"Where is she now?" he repeated.

Anne smiled, her eyes wavering with tears. "Austin. She's in summer camp, it's over in a week…I can bring her…"

"Bring her here. One week, Wednesday."

Billy closed his eyes, sighing. "Tim."

"I'm not forcing you to do this," Tim said to his brother. He wasn't going to make Billy do anything Billy didn't want to do. Wasn't going to force Stevie, Nicky, and Ricky to meet their…aunt, crazy, as it was to think of a five-year old as an aunt. He looked at Anne. "If you're dying, that's your business."

"She just wants money," Billy mumbled.

Anne shook her head, clearing her throat. "Billy, I don't need money. I'm not asking for money. I'm not asking for anything from either of you boys. All I wanted was to see you…to…to tell you I'm sorry. To see if…if you wanted to see your sister. That's all."

No forgiveness. Nothing.

Billy sighed, shaking his head, whispering. "You just left us. I knew he hit you, I knew he abused you, but you left."

"I did," Anne whispered. She closed her eyes tight, nodding, hanging her head in shame. She hiccuped, her throat muscles constricting. Tim could practically count the bones on her chest. She lifted her face to the sky, shaking her head. "I just left you boys with him and…in a sick and twisted way I thought you were better off. I…I went back for Tim, but…you were so happy out there on that football field. I realized that you would…a life on the run from your father wouldn't be a life at all. He'd never hit you the way he did me…your friends were here…I'm not making excuses but I am also not asking for forgiveness."

Wait…he frowned, lifting his face, but Billy was already asking the question for him. " You went back for Tim?"

Anne nodded quickly, gesturing towards Billy, before her hand fell down to her side. "You were twenty…you…you'd already left the house. Walt couldn't hit you anymore, he couldn't manipulate you anymore, but Tim…I went back for him, I went to the football game, I was going to take you after the game, but…" She hiccuped; tears falling freely down her cheeks. Her voice was raspy. "You were so happy Timmy. It was the only place I saw you smile. Walt was happy you were playing football and…and I just…realized that it would be easier for you if you stayed."

Easier for me? It hadn't been easy, but…his father left at about the same time he started to really manipulate Billy, and he didn't get the full brunt of it. Now at least, he could recognize that. When he was sixteen, not so much.

But that was where he saw her. The last time he saw her, standing down there at the end of the football field, watching him. She'd been smiling. Then she'd disappeared.

Billy just shook his head, whispering. "I cannot believe any of this is happening."

In a weird way, Tim could, just because he'd learned not to be surprised at what happened in his family. It seemed like they could never just catch a break, no matter what it was. Or at least, him.

I just want to have my house, my land, and live alone, in peace.

Anne walked towards Billy, looking up at him, breathing. "I would very much like to meet my grandchildren and…and my daughter-in-law, but you owe me nothing. I just want you to know that you have a sister and she hasn't done anything wrong in this other than…other than be my daughter…I love you William, but I didn't come to you in all this because…because I knew you'd already made up your mind."

Billy glanced down at her, whispering. "And because Tim could be manipulated?"

"I can think for myself Billy," he answered. He understood what Anne was saying. He was thirteen when she left, not twenty. It was different. Not by much, but it was different to him.

Let's just get this over with. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll see you in a week, with…with Sophie." It was weird to say that name.

"In a week," Anne confirmed. She smiled sadly. "Thank you Tim."

"Don't thank me yet."

When she reached to hug him, he just took a step back; there was no way he was ready for anything like that. Maybe he'd never be. He watched her walk to her car, getting in the sedan and drove away. She hadn't said anything to Billy, but…Billy wouldn't have even heard it.

After her car disappeared down the road, Billy just turned on him, whispering. "You're going to regret this Tim. Just like with Dad. This is going to be nothing but misery."

"Then it will be my misery," he whispered, taking a step away from Billy, going up to the house, where Lyla had been standing in pure silence, watching the entire thing. He ignored her, going into the house and out into the back, walking towards the top of a hill, stopping in the grass.

He fell down to the grass, staring up at the sky, his hands folding over his chest.

A sister.

A mother with cancer.

A brother who currently hated him.

And an ex-girlfriend that just couldn't let anything go.

It seemed though that Anne was always going to reach out to him. He wondered if it was going to be easier this way. Or if maybe in twenty years, if he was still alive by then, he'd open up his front door to find a sister standing there; would that be easier? No, probably not. Or to go an entire life not knowing he even had a sister.

Or for her, to go an entire life without knowing she had a brother.

Two brothers.

He closed his eyes, listening to the drone of a tractor, far, far, in the distance. The wind whistling over him. He sighed, feeling what just occurred start to seep away. It would still be there, but it was beginning to fade away.

After what felt like an hour, he got up from where he'd fallen, going back to the house, where Billy's car was gone and Lyla was on the back porch, drinking tea and sitting on her computer.

Good Lord Garrity, get a life and just leave, he thought, sighing. Shouldn't she be at the bar? That was basically where she was living these days, obsessing over every little detail with menus and money and marketing.

"Don't you have to be at the bar?"

"The bar can wait." She offered him her cup. "It's soothing."

"What if I don't want to be soothed?"

Lyla set the cup down beside her, closing the laptop and getting to her feet. She squared off against him, whispering. "Then what?"

He reached between them, fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. He let it go, his fingers skimming up to her shoulders, stilling there. He glanced down at her, whispering. "Do you think I should forgive her?"

He didn't know why he asked that question.

Maybe because Lyla was the impartial bystander, sort of. Sometimes he felt like Garrity was his conscience. All he ever heard was that annoying, nagging voice in his mind, trying to tell him right from wrong. Whether it was meeting his mother or when she was bugging him to go see Jason in the hospital and when he didn't listen to her, she got that hurt look that made him feel like he kicked a puppy.

So maybe that's why he figured she'd have the answer to this. He sure as hell didn't know if he should or not, even if Anne didn't ask. It seemed logical.

He shook his head. "Forget it." He squeezed her hands, his eyes closed. "I don't want to think right now. About my mother…about my sister…about Billy…"

"Talk to me about the house," Lyla said quickly, before he could continue his train of thought.

Hmm? He opened one eye. "What?"

"You don't want to talk about Anne or Sophie or Billy, so talk to me about your house. It makes you happy, right?"

Yes, his house made him happy.

He lifted an eyebrow, a thought occurring to him. House, sure, but…if she didn't want to talk about his family, there was something he wanted an answer on. A long time ago he wouldn't have thought about it, but he'd been burned too many times in the last few years.

"How about we talk about…" he trailed off, letting go of her hands, his arms lifting up to cross over his chest, looking down at her. "How about we talk about when you're going to leave?"

This wasn't going to last forever.

And he knew what she said, a couple days ago. This was just sex. Just two friends who currently were sleeping together. There was no need to talk about it, according to her, but he wasn't an idiot. This wasn't his 'friends with benefits' thing he had with Tyra for a couple years after her return.

This was Lyla.

And Lyla couldn't…couldn't separate her emotions like that. Or at least, he didn't think she could.

Lyla pursed her lips, her eyebrow arching. "When I'm going to leave?"

"You are going to leave, right?"

She smiled, tight, and pointed at him, stepping over to her computer. "I know what you're doing."

I love how you think you know me more than I know myself. He sighed, rolling his eyes, just going with it. "What am I doing Lyla?"

"You don't know what's going on with anything right now, when for awhile you actually had a focus on things, and you're pushing me away because I'm the one person in front of you that is not what you planned on. You want to be miserable and alone, so you're going to push the only person who is here with you through this."

"Oh that's what I'm doing, huh?" Maybe that was what he was doing. Right now he knew one thing was certain in all the craziness that was becoming his life, and that was that Lyla planned on leaving. He pointed to the front door. "You're just going to leave anyway Lyla, we should make this easier on ourselves and end it now."

"End what? I've slept with you for the last two nights, that's nothing!"

"Well it's going to end anyway!"

"So why can't we just have it now?" she practically begged, almost falling to her knees in front of him. Her eyes were swimming in tears. She reached for his face. "Tim, I'm going to leave, and I know I am and you know I am and…and unlike last time we know that. You have what I always wanted for you and that was just something to focus on and…and I know you're not going to leave Dillon and I've accepted it and you've accepted that I'm not coming back, so how come while I'm here, we can't just…"

Can't just love each other, he finished, his hands going to her wrists. "Because," he whispered, his forehead falling to hers. He almost wanted to cry and he never wanted to cry. Even in the worst moments of his life. "Because you're going to leave."

And everyone leaves me.

Lyla licked at her lips, her brow wrinkled, and her eyes starting to waver slightly, her lip quivering.

Something snapped and he realized it almost before she did, reaching towards her as she suddenly sobbed, falling against him.

Whoa…what the hell?

She clutched at his chest, crying. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her up against him.

What was going on? This wasn't…this didn't seem like… "Lyla?" he breathed, his hand stroking at her hair as she cried. He frowned, confused. "What's…happening?"

"I don't want to go to medical school," she cried. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't want to go to medical school and I…and I don't want to disappoint my dad, he's so happy…"

What do you want to do then was what he wanted to ask. He wiped his thumb at her tears, eventually pulling her back into his arms. She rested her cheek to his chest, breathing. "I asked you what you wanted and you said me. You have more than me and I have more than you…but that doesn't mean we can't still just…have each other for a short time. This time we know it will be over. It's different. We won't have to…to face the hard truth in the morning."

It was going to end in misery, he thought, quoting Billy from before.

He closed his eyes, clutching her tighter.

Just for a short while.


	10. Dreams

**A/N:**Thanks for all the reviews :) Glad to see people are enjoying this fic.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Dreams**

Maybe I will go to medical school.

Lyla lay in bed, her knee lifted, while her other leg remained outstretched, and head propped against some pillows, looking straight ahead at the mirror over the dresser in front of her. She needed to eat more; her face was growing thinner. Not that there was much left to lose.

Four years of studying your ass off had done her in; she had been so stressed. It was fun, sure…she'd done some internships and study abroad and had done the Big Grand European Adventure in between her junior and senior years. She'd volunteered, she'd made friends. A boyfriend. That didn't turn out well but she still stayed in touch with the girls who had been her roommates; she suspected she'd be friends with them for the rest of her life.

They teased her when she said she wasn't going to move in with them into a house in Nashville after school…she was going back home for the summer before graduate school. Said she just wanted to go back to Hickville, as one of her roommates, who was from Boston, teased.

Not Hickville.

They told her she was going to fall back into old habits. Start wearing cowboy boots and flannel again.

And that was 100% right.

She closed her eyes briefly, listening to Tim breathing beside her.

Old habits indeed.

Her mind drifted elsewhere, watching him sleep. Three days. It had been three days since the confrontation between him, Billy, and Anne outside. Wednesday couldn't come soon enough, she thought. So far Anne had kept her distance. Probably had gone back to Austin. She'd called once, just to verify that everything was still on.

Lyla didn't ask how she got Tim's cell phone number. Unlike them, she could probably afford a private investigator to find out about her children.

She breathed slowly, her eyes closing, and wondering what now.

This wasn't going to end well.

If she went to medical school…she'd be leaving him at a bad time. Anne didn't exactly say, that she heard…what if she did die? She'd be starting medical school at the exact time Tim would be in crisis, with the knowledge that the mother who left him a decade before, who he'd put out of his mind and hadn't thought of again, was gone forever and now he had a little sister.

Or maybe she'd still be sick; maybe he'd still need her. Maybe even he'd have to take care of his little sister.

Taking care of a little sister. Lyla doubted that was why Anne told him or returned to his life, to get a guardian for Sophie. She fully believed the woman when she said that she just didn't want her daughter to be punished for the mother's sins. To grow up without the knowledge that she had a family out there, when she was orphaned, essentially.

She didn't ask Anne, but she would, about what would become of Sophie after her death. Where she would go or whom she would live with. It mattered.

But maybe she'd still go to medical school…just to see what it was like; maybe she would like it. She was the one who decided to go for bioscience. She was the one who didn't know what to do with her life so she decided to 'help people' which she enjoyed doing.

And yet sitting in her father's office, counting money, ordering things, and designing menus and coming up with marketing ideas…that was more fun. It wasn't helping anyone but alcoholics and her father's wallet.

Then there was Tim…just…she really thought they could avoid each other like this. Maybe they could. Maybe they wouldn't have kissed or slept together again.

Maybe pigs could fly.

This thing between them was as inevitable as the pain that would ensue when she left town. It was just a matter of how long they could have gone dancing around it before it finally bubbled over the top.

She glanced sideways at him while he slept. It was mid-morning; he had the morning off from construction, but tonight they were working at Buddy's. She'd let him sleep; he deserved it.

I need to get to my dad's. She'd spent every single night here for the last week, when all of this started.

Beside her he suddenly stiffened, his arms tightening around the pillow. She heard his breath intake sharply and then start coming in tight gasps. A nightmare. He warned her that he had them.

"Tim," she whispered, leaning over, her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

He frowned in his sleep, almost seizing up, his breath gasping again. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. "Shhh, it's okay…it's just a dream. It's not real." Whatever he had nightmares about, he didn't tell her. Just that if he had one, whatever she did, don't force him to wake up, because that made it worse.

Very slowly, she ran her fingers over his arm, up and down, lightly, like her mother used to do to her when she was sick in bed. He stilled and she saw the muscles start to relax on his face and soon he was breathing deeply again. Whatever he'd dreamed about was gone.

Lyla waited a second, not wanting to get out of bed just yet. She continued to lay beside him, until she was satisfied that he was going to remain asleep before she slipped carefully from the bed, dressing in silence.

She gathered her things, carrying them downstairs and to her car. She was going back inside to write Tim a note that she'd see him later at the bar, when a car turned into the driveway.

She didn't recognize who it was, going up into the house and scribbling the note. For lack of clean clothing, she was wearing a pair of ratty shorts she'd brought over to help him paint the dining room in and one of his flannel shirts, which fell beyond the hemline of the shorts. Cowboy boots and a messy topknot finished the ensemble.

I feel so redneck right now, she thought, closing the door behind her, looking at the car.

The girl who climbed out seemed familiar.

Oh, Lyla remembered, almost hitting herself in the forehead with her palm. Duh, it was Becky. She lifted her fingers, waving slightly. "Hello…Becky, right?"

Becky frowned slightly, but smiled, walking up to the porch. "You're Lyla, I remember. You remember me? Becky?"

"Yes, Tim's mentioned you."

"Good things, I hope. I tend to annoy him."

Lyla chuckled, her hands on her hips. "Tim could use someone annoying him. It keeps him on his toes." She ran her tongue over her teeth, gesturing towards the house. "Tim's actually still asleep, he worked late last night so…so I'm letting him sleep. Can I help you with anything?"

"Ah…yeah, I just…I heard from Mindy and Billy about his mom and…and sister…crazy." Becky shoved her hands into the pockets of her sundress, swaying from side to side for a second, looking away. She lifted her eyes, glancing at Lyla's state of dress, lifting an eyebrow. "Are you and Tim back together or something?"

Or something, Lyla immediately thought. She tucked her hair behind her ear, whispering. "It's…complicated." Not that she was comfortable talking about her relationship with Tim with someone she didn't know.

Becky nodded, silently understanding. She glanced down at her feet, saying nothing. She finally smiled, whispering. "You know Tim was pretty bad for awhile after you left…I remember. Then he got out of jail and…and he got better because Tyra was here."

Oh boy. Lyla forced a smile, whispering. "Yeah, I know…I…sorry, I'd love to talk, but…I have to get going."

That didn't dissuade Becky from continuing. "I'm just saying because I think if you leave again Tim's going to be miserable and well you know, Tyra's gone now too. He asked her to stay and she left. I just don't think he's going to be okay if someone leaves him again and now his mom is back…" Becky crossed her arms over her chest, squaring off. "And I love Tim, I don't want him to be hurt."

That makes two of us. Lyla shifted on her feet, whispering to Becky. "You don't need to worry about us Becky, but thank you for your concern. Tim and I are adults." Barely. Barely adults. She set her lips in a line. "I think maybe I'm going to go. If you could please just…let Tim sleep. He really needs it."

"Sure. By the way, Tim and I…nothing ever happened there, just so you know."

Lyla lifted her eyebrow, smiling slightly. Becky was definitely…straightforward when it came to how protective she was over Tim. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I don't know why you'd want to come back to Dillon, you know. You got out. Seems like you can still go wherever you want…what's in Dillon that you'd want to stay for?" Becky asked, smiling a little and backing up towards her car. She shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Yes, of course you're just saying. She waited until Becky drove away before she went back into the house, looking up at the stairs, seeing Tim walking down towards her, the sheet wrapped around his shoulders. His hair stuck up everywhere and he was still half-asleep. "Poor thing," she laughed, reaching for him. "You should go back upstairs."

"I'm fine." He shuffled out of the foyer, into the living room, glancing over his shoulder, his voice thick with sleep. "That Becky out there? What'd she want?"

"She…" Lyla shrugged, whispering. "Just checking on you."

Tim looked up from the couch, where he had taken a seat. He looked up, smiling knowingly, before he fell sideways, his head pillowing on the armrest. "She was warning you about me. Ah…Becks. Figures."

"Excuse me?"

"She gets protective. Crazy little sister…." His voice trailed off, realizing what he just said. He sighed, hugging the sheet tighter around him, whispering. "You going back to your dad's?"

"Um, yeah. I'll see you at the bar tonight?"

He nodded, his eyes closed, and after a few minutes, his breathing evened out again, completely passed out on the couch. Lyla watched him for several minutes, finally walking over and kneeling down, kissing him lightly.

She got up, gathering her keys, getting into her car. There was so much to think about. School…him…whatever would come of this meeting in four days. Now she had Becky warning her to not break Tim's heart, because it couldn't bear breaking again…the Riggins brothers were fighting, which was never a good thing, and this whole…this whole mother thing.

She stopped her car, about twenty minutes later, in front of Buddy's apartment, getting her things and taking them upstairs, finding her father in the kitchen, making coffee. "Morning Daddy."

"No Tim?"

"He's sleeping." It was still fairly awkward to her that her father knew what she and Tim did together. It wasn't like they were married or anything; they were just…just friends. Hell, she wasn't ashamed of it; at one point the entire damn town knew her sex life.

It just felt weird. She took her things into the guest room, which was hers, reverted to Buddy Jr.'s, and now was hers again, dumping them on the bed. She'd start a wash in a few minutes, but she didn't see her father yesterday.

So she'd check in with him.

"That's an…interesting outfit you're wearing," Buddy said, gesturing towards her flannel shirt, cutoffs, and cowboy boots.

"Ah…laundry day. So how are you?"

"I'm fine. I heard a rumor that Anne Riggins is back in town."

News in this town traveled faster than the plague.

There was a pot of coffee on the counter, which she took, carrying it around into the kitchen to stand beside him, reaching up for a mug and pouring herself a cup. While she moved, she thought of the response. Tim wouldn't want everyone knowing his personal business, but somehow it got out.

Actually, she knew how it got out. Mindy told Angela who told Buddy. Then Angela probably told the whole town; she was a bartender after all.

She shrugged, nonchalant. "She's not back in town, but…yes, Tim found out she was…following him. She was going to reach out to him again, but he got to her first. She came into the bar. I don't think she thought he was there."

"She came to the bar? When?"

"A week ago."

"A week!"

It wasn't your business Daddy. Lyla poured some cream into the mug, getting a spoon. She shrugged again. "We did some research…she…" She sighed, lifting the mug to her lips, whispering. "Tim has a little sister, he's going to meet her in a couple days." She swallowed the coffee, lowering the coffee mug about an inch from her lips, whispering, before taking another sip. "Anne has cancer."

Buddy's face was turning purple while she spoke. He walked around her, sitting down at the table, shaking his head. "I can't believe it. He didn't…" he blustered, turning and staring at her. "He didn't tell me!"

Why would he?

I have to get to this damn laundry, Lyla thought, but she also knew she had to sit through whatever it was her father was trying to process about Tim and his family. She set her cup down at the table, taking a seat across from him. "Daddy, Tim is…you know Tim."

"I thought we were family. He should have told me."

He told me, does that count? Lyla closed her eyes, whispering. "Daddy, I've been helping him. He…if you're worried about him, if you're worried he's going to do something stupid, don't. He…he's just trying to deal with it."

Buddy glanced at her, whispering a second later. "With you."

Yes, with me. What's so bad about that? Well, her father would let her know, which he proceeded to do. "Honey, I told you that I'm glad you guys are friends, but this…this is something…if his mother has cancer, he's got a sister…I just don't want you to have to be there to take care of him. You should be going to Austin. We'll take care of him here."

We, who? You? Mindy, who has three children? Angela, who hates him for pushing Tyra away again? Or Billy? Billy, the one who was usually there for everything with Tim, despite all their troubles over the years, they still managed to come out together…didn't look like he would be there for this.

She looked at her hands, speaking clearly. "Daddy I think it's very…very good of Tim to want to meet his little sister. To want to make amends with his mother. He's overcoming his own issues to do so and…and I think he's going to be okay."

I wish I could believe that 100%...but I can't. She continued; might as well let him know her thoughts, now that they were sitting down. "I also…also wanted to tell you that I'm…" Oh damnit Lyla, just say it. She closed her eyes tight. "I've been thinking of…taking a year off. Not going to medical school."

Across from her, Buddy smiled, long and slow, chuckling. "That's a good one Lyla."

"I'm serious," she breathed. Why would I joke about this? She frowned, her jaw clenching. "I don't think it's the right choice for me…I want to do something that I like…that I really want."

"And that's medicine."

"No, maybe it was…I don't…don't know…" She got up from the table, turning a couple times, glancing at him. She frowned harder when he picked up the newspaper. "I think I'm going to do it. I don't want to be a doctor."

"Yes you do baby. You said so, when you got to Vanderbilt."

"I had to pick a major and I…I wanted to help people and I thought maybe being a doctor would work, I just…that's not what I want anymore." People change. Hell, look at me. I've changed. Lyla closed her eyes, whispering. "You know what Daddy…I'm going to just…" she trailed off, not even finishing her statement, walking into her bedroom and gathering up clean clothing, leaving the dirty ones on the bed.

She marched out of her room, passed Buddy. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Not that it's your business, but I'm going back to Tim's."

"Tim Riggins has done just fine these last couple years without you Lyla."

"And I've done fine without him, but you know what Daddy?" Lyla turned on her heel, laughing. This was just something that he had to accept, as well as her….so many saying it out would help…help her accept it too.

She smiled sadly at him. "I love him." She blinked back tears, hiccupping, fighting them back; they always made her father uncomfortable anyway. Sure enough, he started towards her, his face frowning, unsure how to handle her now.

"Daddy…I love him, okay? If I'm back for the rest of my life or for two days, I'm going to go see him, because even if we're not going to be together, or get married or have children, we can still be with each other, we can still help each other and care for each other."

That's something you just don't seem to understand and never have been able to understand. She closed her eyes tight, licking her lips. "Daddy, I'm going to leave at the end of the summer." At some point I have to leave this place, even if I don't go to UT. I'll go somewhere else. Maybe California, to stay with her mother. "And Tim knows I'm leaving. You don't need to worry about me staying here."

She kissed his cheek, turning and leaving him in the foyer of the apartment, jogging down the stairs to her car, getting back inside and sitting there for a moment.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Then another. And another.

Until she was just completely sobbing.

And she had no idea why.


	11. Introductions

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews! This is a fairly long chapter so it will double for today and tomorrow's chapters. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 11: Introductions**

What do you get five-year olds? What do you even do with them or say to them?

Tim didn't get her anything; maybe that's why he was panicking so much. He wasn't sure this was a good idea anymore. What did Anne even want from him? She'd said over and over she didn't want him to forgive her, she wasn't asking for money, and she just wanted her daughter to know him.

And he had to give in to that because it was just mean to say no to a five-year old…and besides, did he want her to feel the resentment he felt at not knowing? No. He didn't. It wasn't fair to her, one day, and well, he figured he wouldn't want a thing to do with her in twenty years if she decided to show up on his doorstep anyway.

He didn't really clean up his house; it wasn't like there was much to clean anyway, but Lyla had gone through, picking things up and putting them in their rightful locations. He sat on the back porch, holding a beer, looking out at the hills.

Anne called earlier to say they would be by at four. "What did you tell her about this?" he asked. He didn't want a kid with expectations.

"I told her we're meeting a friend. She's excited."

Of course she's excited. Then she'll be disappointed.

He sipped the beer, lowering it back to his hands, staring at the label. He ran his thumb over the condensation, making squiggle lines. "I got some stuff for dinner," Lyla said, walking out of the kitchen. She shrugged, her arms wrapping around herself, leaning on the railing. "Hot dogs and stuff, we could cookout, I think she might like that."

I don't care what she might like. He took another sip of beer, whispering after he swallowed. "You hear from Billy?"

Lyla shook her head, mumbling. "No."

Yeah, neither have I. He didn't like it when they weren't speaking…he just…it took a long time to finally be comfortable with his brother, but it was still a work in progress. Now this was happening.

He glanced at her, noting the pretty green sundress she was wearing with her cowboy boots. "You look nice."

"Oh, thanks…I've had this dress forever."

"Yeah, it looks familiar." He had no idea if it did or not. When it came to girls, he wasn't really big on their fashion. Usually he just needed to know where zippers and buttons were. He frowned slightly at her, whispering. "You know…you don't really have to…"

"Tim please don't finish that sentence, I've been here with you through this whole thing and I'm going to see it out."

Until when? The summer wouldn't go on forever. He wished they could figure their lives out. It would be a lot less painful. He set the beer bottle down on the porch, stretching his legs out. He crossed his ankles, leaning back, smiling at her. "You do look really nice. Want to get a workout in before they show up?"

Lyla arched an eyebrow. "No, but thanks for the offer."

"Doesn't hurt to ask," he teased.

Thankfully, he got a smile in return. See, this isn't so bad Garrity.

The front doorbell, which he'd installed the other day, rang, before she could respond. He looked up at her, feeling slightly panicked. They were here. Now…now what?

She hopped off the railing, stepping towards him and picked up his hand, helping him out of the chair, and walked with him through the house, her shoulder against his. "It'll be okay," she whispered, when they reached the front door. She turned around and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll be here."

Yes, yes you'll be here. What would I do without you here? That's what made this so hard and she just didn't seem to ever understand it. He let go of her, opening up the front door.

Anne stood on the threshold, her hand on the shoulder of a small girl, who, now that he could see her in person, looked a lot like him. Actually, she kind of resembled Stevie, which was weird. She was wearing a green dress that looked a little like Lyla's, holding a piece of construction paper. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail and he frowned slightly, but then curved his lip upward in a smile, when he took in her skinned knees and a bandaid on her elbow.

Tomboy, he supposed, despite the fact she was wearing a dress and had on some little kid-like plastic bracelets.

"Um…hi," he whispered, not meeting Anne's eyes. He glanced at the girl, Sophie, who smiled up at him. She was missing a tooth, on the bottom. He lifted his hand, feeling really, really stupid. "Hi Sophie."

She smiled wider. "Hi," she chirped, offering the construction paper towards him. "I made this for you."

Why? She didn't know him. He took the paper; turning it over and seeing that she'd drawn an outline of the state of Texas and a house in the middle. He smiled, nodding, whispering. "Thank you. What…what is it?"

"It's a house in Texas, Mommy says you have a house in Texas and you made it so I made you one…can I come in please?" Sophie didn't wait for him to say yes before she pushed by him and Lyla into the house. "Cool!"

Anne's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, she can be a little forceful."

Oh wow, he thought, taking in Anne's appearance compared to a week ago. She seemed to be even skinnier and worse off. Tired. He frowned, stepping aside, letting her into the house. "You want…want something to drink or something? You don't look so good."

"I'm just tired, but thank you some water might be…" Anne took a deep breath, which didn't seem like a deep breath to him, despite the exertion it seemed to take her. "Might be nice."

He went through the house, Lyla bringing up the rear, surprised to see that Sophie had already made herself comfortable in the living room, sitting on the couch and looking around at everything. He left Lyla to get Anne's water and talk to her, walking over to sit beside his…

His sister.

Sophie looked up, her head resting on the couch cushions, smiling. "Hi."

"Hi."

She kept her face on his, leaning forward a little. Her tiny brow furrowed, trying to focus on him. "So who are you?"

Who am I?

I'm Tim Riggins.

That didn't mean much of anything anymore, not like it had in high school. He shrugged, looking down at the construction paper artwork she'd made for him. A house in Texas. That's kind of what I am.

And he was fine with that.

He turned away from it, smiling slightly at her, whispering. "I'm Tim."

"I'm Sophie." She frowned a little. "Is your name Timothy?"

"Yeah, but no one calls me that." Hadn't since he was really, really little. To be honest, he wasn't sure what was on his birth certificate. Everything he ever had just said 'Tim.'

Sophie reached up to his face, her little fingers touching at his nose. What the hell are you doing kid, he thought, not moving a muscle. Kids were fun, he didn't mind them, but they were completely unpredictable. For someone like him, who didn't really like that unpredictability, at least in the people around him, it tended to be slightly nerve racking.

He reached and touched her nose.

"Hey, don't do that."

"Then don't do it to me."

Sophie let go, smiling. "You look like me."

"I do not. You're a girl."

"And you're a boy. How old are you?"

"23."

"That's really old."

"How old are you?"

"Five."

"Five is really little."

Uh-oh. He saw her eyes sort of light up with fire, her eyebrows coming to a point. Her jaw clenched. "I am not little."

He smiled, teasing her, whispering. "Yes, you're very little."

"I am not little!" she exclaimed, pushing at his shoulder. She got up off the couch, jumping in place. "I can do anything."

"Can you play football?"

Sophie froze, her lips pressing together. She moved them from side to side, her arms going around her back, shrugging slightly. "No."

"You want to learn?"

"What is football?"

Oh boy. A kid that didn't know football. This had to be fixed. He got up off the couch, walking with her outside. "I'll show you."

Somewhere in the back of his mind he forgot about his mother, who was sitting with Lyla on the porch. He forgot about Lyla, even…he forgot about a lot of stuff, because Sophie was kind of cool. She showed him her skinned knees and elbow, saying she got them from climbing a tree when she wasn't supposed to or riding her bike.

Which, she told him, pointing to the missing tooth on her bottom row, was how she lost the tooth, because she flipped over the handlebars and hit the ground. She pointed to the scar on her hand, where she needed stitches because she was looking for rocks in the stream behind her house and cut herself.

It meant she was either a tomboy or a daredevil or maybe she was just a klutz, but Tim liked it about her. He did have to hear about how she liked to dress-up. Did he like to dress-up? No. Did he like to play tea parties? No.

He had long hair, could she braid it? No. There was a lot of 'no' answers for awhile.

Who was the pretty lady at the door? That's Lyla, she's my friend. Your girrrrlfriend? No, not his girrrrlfriend.

At some point, he'd taken her down to the dock, where she was now sitting, calming down a little from playing football. Her dress had a grass stain, but she didn't care about it. "Hey Tim," she asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you my friend?"

I'm your brother, he thought, biting his lip hard. He glanced back at the porch, with Anne watching them, leaning against the railing. He sighed, hoping he didn't screw this up. He shook his head, whispering. "I'm your brother."

Sophie whipped her head up, looking at him. "What?"

"Your brother? Brothers and sisters?"

She looked down at the pond, swinging her feet back and forth over the edge. He noticed that her tiny fingers were holding onto the dock tighter. She seemed to shut down, so he didn't say anything, until she whispered a few minutes later. "My friend Riley has a brother."

"Yeah?"

"He's little. He's a baby. He cries."

He shrugged, leaning back, whispering. "You can have brothers who are older than you."

"But you're really old."

He quirked his lip upward. Yeah, I'm really old, at twenty-three, I'm ancient. He'd be twenty-four in a few months though, so that didn't matter. It felt like he'd been living for a million years, not twenty-three. He shrugged, whispering. "Your mom? She's my mom too."

Sophie shrugged, her legs still swinging over the side. "I don't have a daddy. Mommy said he's in a bad place."

Jail is a very bad place. Yes, your mother is right there. He said nothing, letting Sophie speak again, her voice quiet, so quiet, it sounded like a tinny in your ear. Just a little buzzing. "Is that your daddy too?"

Great, now they were getting into birds and bees territory. He shook his head, whispering. "No, my dad is someone else." He's in a bad place too. Maybe he's dead. Who knew and more importantly, who cared? Not him. Not Billy.

She seemed to be processing it, in whatever little kid way she could. Yeah, confuses me too. He sighed, whispering. "You know…I always wanted a little sister."

That was a lie; he never wanted a sister.

But if it made her feel better…

Her face brightened and she looked up at him. "Really?"

"Sure."

"I wanted a sister, but Mommy says she's sick…she can't have brothers or sisters."

He nodded, deciding to stay away from that conversation, about Mommy being sick. He didn't know what Anne told her and there was no way he was going to get into that with Sophie. It was Anne's business. He got up to his feet, helping her up. "You want to go back to the house?"

"Okay." Sophie took off ahead of him, yelling. "Mommy! Guess what? Tim's my brother!"

Anne's face dropped, before she plastered on a smile. "Oh…yeah? He told you?" She looked at him, shaking her head slightly, a little confused, but Sophie was bouncing around her, with a second-wind of energy, telling her about her big brother now.

After a few minutes, Anne convinced Sophie to go wash up, waiting for her to disappear into the house before she turned quickly. "You told her? I was going to tell her when she was ready!"

"When do you think she was going to be ready?" he demanded, his hands on his hips. What did she want from him? She wanted him to know his sister, so he started to get to know her, and now she was mad at him? He shook his head, frowning. "I wanted to tell her, I was ready, I told her, and guess what? She doesn't really seem to care, she's five!"

A movement from behind him caught his attention; Lyla had gone back into the house, probably to make sure Sophie didn't overhear the fighting that was sure to commence on the porch.

His mother stepped away from him, leaning against the railing, her shoulders hunched forward. "I just wasn't…didn't know how to tell her…but you…she's…" Anne turned around, reaching to push her fingers through her hair. She let her hand sit on her head for a moment, letting her hands fall back to her sides. Her voice thickened. "She's okay with it?"

"I don't know, she seems fine." He walked over, standing beside her, looking straight at her. They were the same height. He leaned against the porch railing, whispering. "Does she know…know about…you?"

Anne blinked back tears, shaking her head. "No. She knows I'm sick, but…no, you can't tell a five-year old about cancer…just that…it's this bad thing inside of you. It's bad enough I can't do things with her that most mothers can do with their daughters. It's bad enough that she has this whole other family that I…that I kept from her and kept from you…there's enough things that she's going to have to cope with when she grows up and I don't want to traumatize her anymore than I already will."

Wow. Tim was having a problem trying to reconcile a woman who thought like that with the woman who once threw a glass at the wall because they were out of rum and she was too drunk to drive. Or who one day sat with him in his bed all day long because he was sick with chicken pox, but the next day she was passed out on the couch and he had to get Billy to take care of him. He was seven.

Sometimes he allowed himself to wonder what happened to her after she left them. Did she go somewhere cool? Change her name? How could she just forget her children? Did she have bipolar disorder or something?

Anne seemed to be reading his mind, whispering. "I left and took as much as I could without your father noticing. I sent him a letter and said that…that I was going to be gone…he didn't care. I went to Austin and then I moved to New Orleans. I lived there for awhile, I worked…worked at this bakery."

Yes, that's right, she baked things. She was good at it, he remembered when for Billy's birthday she made him a cake in the shape of a football, it even had coconut shavings dyed green all around it, like grass.

"And I…I convinced myself it was good of me to leave you, convinced myself I didn't want kids and never did and I just…it's awful. It's really awful. When I got pregnant…unexpectedly, at my age…I started thinking of you again, started allowing myself to wonder…and realized that I couldn't just let you live without knowing….me or Sophie….It's no excuse." Anne wiped at her eyes, whispering behind her hand. "No excuse, but…you grew up and had this life…you didn't need me in it."

I needed a mother. He felt numb, all of a sudden. He closed his eyes, whispering. "I was thirteen…I still needed parents."

"Did you need parents who hated the idea of being parents?" she whispered. She shook her head. "We can go back and forth on this all day Tim. For the rest of our lives, but…that doesn't change what I did and it doesn't change my regret. Do I think that if I'd stayed, you wouldn't have gone to jail? Do you think you'd have gone to school or would have the drive to build your own home?"

I have no idea. It did no good thinking of alternate futures. He shook his head, whispering. "Doesn't matter."

"What matters is I have…I have however long I have and one day Sophie will be like you and Billy, only she won't have anyone to take care of her." Anne wiped at her eyes again, whispering. "I have full custody of her and I…and I have my will written. Her father will not be able to have custody of her unless he sues and I can assure you, when he leaves prison, he's not going to want a thing to do with her. He didn't even want her when she was born so…"

Where will she go?

Anne continued. "There's a friend of mine in Austin, who will take care of her. She's agreed to help raise her. She'll get custody, but…I just don't want her to be shuffled around from person to person…I want her to have someone who can be there for her…and I can't ask that person to be you, but I just…just want her to know that she has a brother. Brothers. Family."

I can't take care of a five-year old. I can barely take care of myself. He shook his head, whispering. "Okay."

"We should probably get going."

You drove all the way out here for what? A few hours? He straightened up, whispering, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Lyla got food, if you want…want to stay."

Anne smiled slightly, whispering. "I think Sophie would like that."

Sophie or you? He just smiled, trying not to think too hard into it all. He turned towards the house, when she called out to him. "You know…Lyla's a very sweet girl."

Yes, I know. What are you playing at? He turned, waiting. Anne walked towards him, whispering. "How long have you known her?"

"A long time."

"Well…I think she's a very nice girl. She seems to know you very well." Anne smiled again, walking by him into the house, calling for Sophie.

He frowned; what was that about? He walked around to the side porch, turning onto the front, where Lyla was sitting, looking at something on her phone. He sat down beside her, leaning forward, glancing sideways. "What did you say to my mom?"

"I didn't say anything, why?"

No reason. Just that I think she thinks we're getting married or something, the way she was talking. He shook his head, scanning the front yard and looked up to the street. Coming down from a hill was a familiar minivan. Huh. He nudged Lyla's shoulder. "Guess Billy decided to come."

The front door opened, Sophie walking out and over to him. "I'm staying for dinner," she said, climbing to sit beside him. "Are we going to have a cookout?"

"I think so."

"With marshmallows?"

Hell, he didn't know what Lyla got. Thankfully, Lyla leaned over, smiling. "Yes, with marshmallows. I even got chocolate and graham crackers, we can have s'mores!"

"Ooh, I like s'mores."

"You do? Me too. I like when the chocolate melts all over my fingers."

He got up, leaving Lyla to talk with Sophie, walking down the steps as the van stopped behind Anne's sedan. The door opened, Stevie running out. "Uncle Tim!"

On the porch, he heard Anne's sharp gasp.

Tim lifted Stevie up onto his arm, waiting for Billy to climb out of the driver's seat, while Mindy walked around to the side door, to get the twins out. Billy walked towards him, looking sheepish.

"Did some thinking," Billy whispered. He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. "And if you…you want to let her back in…I guess I have no reason not to…since…well since you are the one who…who was the kid when she left."

That's nice of you. He set Stevie down, glancing up at the porch, where Sophie had gotten off the porch swing, walking over to Anne, huddling against her. He frowned, Sophie and Stevie squaring off, surveying each other. They shared a few words, until both laughed, running off to the backyard like best friends.

Mindy walked over, holding one of the twins in her arms while the other ran towards Lyla. That had to be Nicky, he remembered last year at Christmas; Nicky fell in love with Lyla and hadn't really stopped loving her.

He knew a little something about that.

He glanced at Billy, who was just watching Anne, who was watching him. Mindy lightly nudged at him. "Go on baby."

Tim stood behind, watching Billy approach Anne. He said a few words, gesturing towards Mindy, who walked up towards her, shaking her hand and gesturing towards Ricky and then towards Nicky.

That was nice, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest, watching Anne meet her grandchildren. She was crying; he didn't think that was going to stop for a while. He glanced sideways, Lyla coming to stand beside him on the walkway. She propped her hands on her hips, smiling. "You did this."

"I didn't do anything."

"Billy wouldn't accept her until you did. You're the judge of character, Tim, not him. You could have sent her back to Austin; back to her life and just…just keep her out of everything. You had a right to do that, but you didn't. You know why?"

No, but I'm sure you'll tell me. He said nothing, which prompted Lyla to go ahead and tell him. "Because you're a good guy. You're kind. Loving. You want this."

I don't want anything. I just don't want fighting. I just want to be left alone.

He glanced down at her, whispering. "You ever get tired of trying to make my life better?"

Lyla quirked her lip up, shaking her head, whispering. "I'm not trying to make your life better. You're happy. I just want you happy and if…if doing this for your mother, to give her comfort before she passes makes you happy…then I'm all for it. If it makes you uncomfortable and…and is too much…I'll help you there too, but…does it?"

Does it what? "No," he answered, a few minutes later, watching Billy, Mindy, and Anne go around to the back of the house. He smiled a little, looking at his feet. "No."

"Good. Now…why don't we go in the back and see your sister? She's cute, huh?"

He smiled a little, whispering. "Yes, she's cute."

"Good. Come on, let's go."

They walked together; around to the back of the house; before he went to join everyone, he stopped in his tracks, glancing at her walking ahead of him. "Hey Lyla?"

She stopped, looking over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

He frowned; he wanted to know, but…sometimes it was just easier to remain oblivious. What were you talking about with my mother? He shook his head, whispering. "Nevermind." He forced a smile, walking by her.

They'd talk about it later.

Or not.


	12. Plans

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews! This is going up one day earlier than planned because I won't have time tomorrow, so I thought I'd quickly sneak it on in today. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 12: Plans**

Tim's mother was actually really nice, Lyla felt kind of bad for thinking poorly of her in the beginning, without having met the woman. It seemed like a true testament to the belief that people could change.

Hell, she knew a little bit about change.

She watched Anne's sedan drive away that night, Sophie waving from the backseat. She waved back, her hands on her hips, waiting until it was gone before she went back inside, closing the door and flicking the front lock.

There were several messages on her phone, when she went to check it, all from her father, wanting to know where she was and why she was blowing off the bar. He said he understood why Tim was doing it, but not her. That Daddy, is why you'll never understand, she thought, deleting all the messages.

The kitchen was kind of a mess, but she ignored it, going outside and to the firepit, where Tim was still sitting. Billy, Mindy, and the boys had all left a few minutes before Anne and Sophie. Stevie had been acting up and the twins were passing out, so it was time for them to go.

It all seemed to have gone rather smoothly. She sat back in the chair next to him, sighing in relief. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to see them again?"

Tim nodded, setting his beer aside, closing his eyes and leaning back. "Yeah. I think I will." He turned his head, whispering. "You want to go to Austin next weekend?"

Maybe she could start looking for an apartment; maybe even get her books. She shrugged, whispering. "What about the bar?"

"What about it? I'll ask for a couple days off."

"You have to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Yeah. She felt like an old married couple; or at least, what she thought an old married couple felt like. She tapped her fingers on the armrest. "Billy came. That's really good."

"Hmm….yeah."

You're very tired, she deduced, reaching her hand over, lightly stroking down his arm. He turned his hand over, her fingertips resting in his palm. Very slowly his fingers closed around them, squeezing. She smiled, squeezing hers around his. Her voice was breathy, very sleepy, a second later. "Your mom…she's…I think she's truly sorry for what she did."

"Hmm…" He turned his head a little, resting it against his shoulder, whispering. "Yeah, I guess."

"I mean…" Why the hell was she keeping this up? She shrugged, whispering again. "I can't imagine being in a position where you'd want to abandon your children, or even just…just move on from it and never come back, you know? I guess…she came back because she got sick, it put things into perspective, but…would she have come back otherwise?"

"I don't know Garrity."

Lyla nibbled at her thumbnail, taking a moment. God, had it only been a week? It felt like a month. "You know, if we go to Austin next weekend…you want to help me look for an apartment? For school?"

"Sure."

I wish I could compartmentalize my emotions the way that you do, she thought, not even hearing disappointment or…or anything really, in his voice. She cleared her throat. "I am going to be leaving, Tim. In a couple weeks. Maybe a month."

"Yeah, I know."

Why won't you say something? Why won't you do something? Get angry or…or something…the other day when she'd broken down against him, it had been because she was just exhausted. She just couldn't think about anything anymore and she just wanted him to know that she didn't want to leave him.

Even if this whole thing was her idea in the first place and part of the rules required no talking about it.

Well I'm breaking the rules.

When it finally came down to the day that she had to leave again, to get in her car and drive away from Dillon, it wasn't because she was leaving him. She was just…just leaving.

She hoped he'd realize that.

Lyla rested her head on her shoulder, breathing deeply for a second, her eyes closing. She felt so tired. "You know Tim…I think you're going to be okay. You've always been able to just…overcome and adapt."

He opened one eye. She glanced sideways, seeing him. He sighed, breathing. "I wish this could just be…" He sighed, looking at the sky, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing. "Enough."

I wish it could be enough as well. "Could you have imagined a day when you knew what you wanted out of life more than me?" she whispered, smiling a little. That's what this was about.

"I thought you do know what you want."

"Not really."

Tim shrugged, getting up from the chair. "Well," he announced, dusting his hands, straightening up to his feet. He offered his hand to down her. "I'd say, Ms. Garrity, that the day I know what I want more out of life than you, is a cold day in hell, so…come on up."

She chuckled, slowly getting to her feet and kicking off her sandals, walking with him away from the fire to the grass, where he twirled her around and then tugged her against his chest. "What are we doing?" she asked.

Maybe that question was twofold. What were they doing right then and there, dancing in the grass, and what were they doing with each other? Tim smiled, shaking his head. "I have no idea."

That's what scared her.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder, swaying lightly. She smiled. "You have a little sister."

"I know."

"She's a year older than her nephew. That's just crazy."

"Yeah," he chuckled. He rested his cheek to the top of her head, whispering. "What did you and my mom talk about?"

Lots of things; while he was down at the dock with Sophie, walking around and playing with her, she'd been listening to Anne. Listening to Anne detail how she just wanted Sophie to know her brother was there, in the event that she needed someone to talk to her about…about life. Listening to Anne tell her how sorry she was for abandoning Tim.

And telling Anne about how they were these two sixteen-year olds who made a mistake and somehow it became the best mistake either had made. How that football game in late August just changed everything. Some for good and some for bad.

She shrugged, whispering. "We talked about you. About how we met and stuff. She said she was sorry again, she said how she was just…she got sick and I guess she went through chemotherapy a couple years ago, but it didn't work, so she's doing radiation and they're not…not optimistic, I guess. Told me how she'd changed from this scared pregnant teenager to someone who just…who was just sorry for how their life had turned out and all the regrets and mistakes."

"She doesn't work anymore, but apparently after the divorce from the surgeon, after the government took most of her settlement, she started a bakery. It's done well and she sold it when she got really sick." She sighed, lifting her head up to look at him, watching her. "I think she's just genuinely regretful for the things in her life, but she's accepted that she can't go back and change them, she can only go forward."

He nodded, whispering. "Guess that makes two of us."

What do you regret Tim?

Lyla narrowed her eyes, voicing that very question. "Do you have regrets?"

"Not really, but…" He sighed, shaking his head, breathing. "When I think I do, I just think of what happened after…I…I left college, but I…I have this house. I'd probably be failing out anyway. Um…I go to jail, but…but Stevie has a father. Like Billy didn't…and just…"

He let his voice falter somewhat, before he spoke again, lifting it up. "Then there's you."

Me? What do you regret about me? She frowned, but said nothing, letting him speak. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink; he was never this open. Tim held her tighter. "Maybe I should have gone after you."

He said it, like he'd thought about it a couple of times, but not in a serious way. She smiled, her eyes closing again.

Do you know how many nights I'd wake up wondering what that would have been like? To find you outside my door? Usually it came after she'd had too much to drink or after she'd gotten really bad news or just…just was having a crisis of conscience.

Most of the time she didn't think of him at all.

She shook her head, whispering. "You and I both know that that wasn't what either of us wanted. Not long term."

"Yeah. Then I'd think that…after I already thought…about going after you," he sighed. It was just a thought, they'd both had it, there was nothing wrong about it, but…yeah. Neither of them wanted it, she thought again.

"And I thought it too. Once and awhile. You coming after me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You want this place and that's enough for you, but I want something more and that's enough for me and what's so…" She let go of him, cursing, her eyes closing and her voice tight. "And what's so…so fucking sad about everything is that we do love each other, right? We love each other and we want each other and yet…that's not enough! And I can't change you and you can't change me."

Lyla sighed hard. "And what's killing me right now is that I don't know if I even want to leave anymore!"

There, she said it. Because being with him this last week was nice and working at the bar was actually pretty fun, but she was Lyla Garrity, you know? How could she of all people stay in Dillon?

All the grief and the pain that this place had caused her…how could she think to stay here?

She let go of him, walking towards the fire again, collecting her sandals, falling back down to the lawn chair. She lifted her eyes, watching him from where he was still standing, on the other side of the fire. It made him look like he was part of the flames himself.

Tearing her eyes away, she spoke. "That's what makes this so hard."

Because the last couple times here…I wanted to leave. I wanted to go, even after seeing you, but now? Now she didn't want to go. Not even with a new future ahead of her.

What felt like hours later, he came back to sit beside her. He leaned over his knees, turning his head her way. He sighed, whispering after a second. "What do you want Lyla? Like…what do you really, really want to do? Stay in Dillon? Or go somewhere else? Because I told you that I didn't want to be the reason for you to stay and then I realized how much I hated missing you and you came back and I wanted you to stay, but you'd made that decision on your own…to leave. So what now? Do you want me to be that guy that asks to stay or tells you to go?"

"Because Lyla…" He shook his head, whispering. "I have spent too much time fighting for you. This has to be you. I'm not doing anything either way. You want to stay? You have a place here. You want to go? I'll drive you to wherever it is you want to go."

Change. It was a funny thing.

Because good Lord, the man beside her was nothing like the boy she'd fallen in love with.

She couldn't fathom that there would be a day when she'd hear Tim Riggins say something like that. To be so selfless about something like this.

Change; there was a living embodiment of it sitting beside her.

"What about your mom?"

Tim licked his lips, shrugging. "What about her?"

"What about if she dies?"

"Then she dies, Lyla. I know that, she knows that…she…she's aware of it and so am I."

Yes but are you really? The woman who left you ten years ago might die in a couple months. That was going to do something to him. As much as he'd changed, Lyla wasn't quite sure what it would do to him. She wanted to help him.

You don't always have to bet here for him, a voice inside her head told her. He isn't your boyfriend. He isn't someone that you have to give up your life for anymore. Do what you want to do.

Yes, but he is my friend, and regardless of her independence nowadays, she wanted to help a friend. Abandoning him in a time of need…that is not what friends did.

She shook her head, whispering. "What about your sister?"

"What about her?"

"Anne said she's going to go live with a family friend, but…do you think that maybe…maybe you and Billy…" Where the hell was she going with this? That was the dumbest idea ever. Billy had a wife and three young children. Adding a long-lost five-year old sister to the mix would not help with matters.

And Tim…yeah, really, she didn't know where she was going with this line of thought. She was tired, maybe a bit tipsy.

Tim shook his head, whispering. "Garrity I work two jobs, I'm building a house…I can barely take care of myself."

"Are you going to stay in touch with her?"

"She's my sister."

There was that sense of loyalty, rearing its head. She smiled, long and slow. "You'd make a good big brother."

"I've already helped take care of Billy."

Yes, he had. He'd already acted like the big brother. The caretaker, that's what he called himself. He really, really was. He took care of Billy, he took care of Jason, and he took care of her. He took care of Becky, of everyone else around him. Everyone but himself.

She got up from her chair, offering her hand to his. "I thought we weren't going to talk about us."

"You're the one who has been talking."

"Well I'm going to stop."

He rested his forehead to hers, whispering. "I'm really tired."

"So am I."

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him, just breathing. After a moment, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her upstairs to his room. He left, probably to put out the fire in the backyard. While he was gone, she stripped down to a tank-top and shorts, crawling into the bed.

He returned, doing the same thing, crawling after her and laying beside her, his arms going behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "So…medical school."

"I thought we weren't going to talk."

Medical school.

He shook his head beside her, breathing. "I have plans Garrity. They're mine, they're not…not as big as most people, I'm not going to college and I'm not looking to be a millionaire, but…they're mine and I have them. I never did. Now I do."

Lyla closed her eyes, turning her head to rest on his shoulder, her arm going around his chest, whispering. "That's really good Tim."

Her plans consisted of figuring out whether she wanted what she wanted. Second-guessing her desires. Wondering if once again she'd walked herself into a situation where someone else was dictating her life choices.

A few minutes later, she whispered the words she was thinking, wondering if he heard her.

"Because I don't know if I want my plans."

She waited, lifting her head slightly; his eyes were closed and he was asleep.

She lowered her head back down, closing her eyes. They had a few more weeks of this…and then it had to end. Her stomach twisted in her gut, wishing she could extend it. He had plans, he said.

And she was somewhat happy for him because those plans he had?

They didn't include her.


	13. Fighting

**Chapter 13: Fighting**

Tim wandered through the halls of the hospital, his hands shoved into his pockets. He hated hospitals. They always smelled bad. Like antiseptic. Like sickness. Freaked him out.

He stepped into a room that was patterned like a kindergarten class, smiling at Sophie, who looked up from a table she was at, her eyes lighting him. Good, she remembered him. He did see her a couple days ago, but at least she wasn't forgetting him.

He actually liked this kid. Reminded him of his nephews.

Except she wore a lot more pink.

"Tim!" she exclaimed, climbing out of her chair. She pointed to him, looking up at a teacher or an aide of some sort. "This is my brother. This is Tim Riggins and he's my brother. Right Tim?"

"Yeah, I am your brother." He took her hand, smiling at the aide, who looked a little confused. He shrugged. "I should be on that list or something, to pick her up?"

After several minutes of showing his ID to verify he was able to pick up Sophie, he walked with her out of the hospital daycare, headed towards the fifth floor of Austin Regional. He wasn't sure what to expect, going up to the fifth floor, holding onto Sophie's hand.

She seemed to shrink into him. He frowned, pausing outside of the elevator, kneeling down. "You okay kid?" Of course she wasn't okay.

The little girl nodded quickly. "Yeah."

He lifted his eyebrow, his head cocking. As if to ask 'really?' He waited a second, before he whispered, hoping that this worked. "You know, I hate hospitals. Hate em.' My best friend was in a hospital for a long time…I didn't go visit him for a long time. It was awful. So if you don't like them either…that's fine."

Her smile curved up slightly. She looked down at her feet, her hands in his, whispering. "I don't like seeing Mommy. She scares me."

Hell, it's probably going to scare me too. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her quickly. "She's still your mom."

"And your mommy too, right?" She kept asking him that, verifying that the information was correct or something. Yes, he kept repeating it, over and over, that he was her brother and they had the same mother.

He nodded quickly, standing back up, only this time he lifted her onto his arm, carrying her down the hallway and to the waiting area. He set her down on a couch, going to the nurse's station, leaning against the glass, knocking lightly on the counter. "Excuse me? Can you tell me when Anne McConnell will be out?"

A nurse glanced at a computer screen. "She's just finished, they'll wheel her out shortly."

"Thanks." Tim stepped back over to Sophie, taking a seat beside her, waiting impatiently for his mother to come out of the cancer wing. He knew that a neighbor had dropped Sophie off. Anne drove herself to and from her treatments, he didn't think that was right, but she insisted she could handle it.

Several minutes later, a set of automatic doors opened, a nurse pushing Anne out in a wheelchair. "Mommy!" Sophie exclaimed, jumping up and running to hug her.

Tim looked up, his eyes widening slightly at the sudden difference he noticed in Anne. She seemed even thinner than a few days ago, when he'd dropped by to see his sister. It was coming a bit easier to him, the knowledge and understanding that this kid was his sister. He found it easier than he thought, at least.

And Anne…well that was still a work-in-progress, he still felt like he should feel more around her than he really did. Right now though, he knew he felt something more. It kind of turned in his stomach, kind of constricted his throat.

Took a second, when the nurse wheeled her towards him and Anne got out, stumbling slightly. He reached out to catch her, his hands on her forearms, steadying her, and frowning.

Concern.

He cared.

Good Lord, Tim thought, shaking it from his head, immediately letting her go. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, sorry, just a bit dizzy, I'll be fine, thank you." Anne smiled up at him, whispering. "You didn't have to come."

"Didn't want the kid to be lonely."

"That's nice of you."

He wanted to talk to her some more; there was something she was hiding. Just like how Billy got this weird look, where he just wouldn't lift his eyes up, his head kind of lowered; she was doing the same thing. Billy only did it when he did something wrong. Like a puppy or something.

They left the hospital; he drove his truck around, to pick them up at the front of the hospital, with Sophie climbing in and bouncing in her seat, saying how much she liked the truck; it made her feel like a farmer.

Thanks kid, he thought with a slight eyeroll. He helped Anne up into the passenger side, going around to the front. "So, where do you want to go?" he asked, glancing down at Sophie.

Sophie pursed her lips. "Well…Mommy takes me for ice cream."

"Sophie no, we're going home, Tim has things he has to do."

"I can take her for ice cream."

Anne bit her lower lip, her eyes shadowed with dark rings. "Tim, you…"

It was getting really annoying how much she didn't want him in her life or doing things for them, when she was the one who had been following him for the better part of two weeks, claiming she wanted to see him again. Guess that was on her terms.

Oh well, they were on his now.

He ignored Anne, glancing back to his sister. "So where do you get ice cream?"

"At Banana Split, it's by my school! I get chocolate peanut butter," Sophie chattered. She leaned her head against his shoulder, lifting her hazel eyes adoringly up at him. "Do you like ice cream?"

"It's okay."

"What's your favorite?"

"Vanilla."

"Ew! That's boring."

That's what Lyla said, whenever they'd get ice cream together. In fact, the other day she'd said the same thing. He wasn't a chocoholic like her, having to have whatever flavor had the most bits of cookie or brownie. He just liked vanilla. It was simple.

I'm just a simple guy at heart, he thought, driving back towards Anne's Georgetown neighborhood. It was really nice, her house.

Anne directed him towards the ice cream place, where Sophie all but crawled over her mother to get out and run inside with him. "I've got it," Anne said, stepping ahead of him to pay.

Whatever Mom, he thought, rolling his eyes. At Sophie's insistence, he got a cup of vanilla, but he wouldn't eat it. He just wasn't hungry or in the mood. He wanted to know what was wrong with Anne; what she wasn't telling him about the hospital.

For that, he had to wait for the five-year old to be occupied.

Which didn't take long. A few minutes later, Sophie was covered in ice cream, playing with some other kids at a small playground in front of the ice cream place. He sat on a bench, Anne beside him, not really eating her vanilla ice cream. He nodded towards it. "You know that's boring, right?"

"You know that's boring, right?" Anne repeated, lifting her eyebrow. She quirked her lip up, smiling. "I'll eat my boring ice cream, thank you."

He smiled slightly; that reminded him more of the mother he knew as a kid. Not this fragile shell of a woman who seemed to cower around him. "Was wondering where you were," he whispered, lifting his eyebrow, sliding his glance towards her.

Her cheeks tinged pink slightly. She shook her head, setting the half-finished cup of ice cream beside her. "That woman was…very different. I grew up Timmy."

"You sober?" he whispered. It was something he'd been curious about. How deep her problem actually ran. When she drank, that's when she screamed about whatever it was that was bugging her that day. Whether his hair was too long, or Billy was too loud, or there was too much junk on the floor.

He tossed his ice cream into the trash beside him, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching back, bringing his ankle up to rest on the opposite knee. Anne glanced away, nodding quickly. "Yeah," she whispered, smiling a little. "Seven years."

Holy crap.

"Congratulations."

"And you?"

He pursed his lips, glancing away, not answering her question. He'd been sober about five hours, did that count? "So…what's with the cancer?" Medical stuff went over his head, but he knew she wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"It's cancer. It's killing me."

"Earlier. That your last treatment?"

"Yes."

"For now, right? Don't you have to have more?" There was a guy on his construction crew. Frank. Frank had had about ten different types of cancer treatments and it was finally gone. Took him years. Tim wasn't sure how many Anne had had. She still had hair, right? That meant she didn't have the one…what was it called?

Chemo, he remembered.

Anne's face went a little calm, watching Sophie. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, whispering. "Sophie was two when I started treatments. They found a lump in my breast…said it was probably because I was 42 and having children…they removed it and they removed my lymph nodes. I had chemotherapy…I had radiation and I also had a mastectomy."

He glanced at her, shaking his head slightly, confused. He had no idea what she was talking about.

She smiled slightly, gesturing to her chest. "They're fake. They take it all off, to reduce your risk of the cancer returning."

"Oh." But she had liver cancer now, right? He glanced sideways, whispering. "I thought you had liver cancer?"

"I do. My sins caught up with me Timmy. The breast cancer was because…well your grandmother had it. Her mother had it and I guess it was my turn. The liver cancer…that was just sheer bad luck…" she whispered, her voice trailing off. She sighed, shrugging. "Guess it was still in my body and chose the liver. It was already broken down and destroyed anyway."

Oh, wow. He didn't know that. Didn't know you could have both, he guessed. He ran his tongue over his teeth, whispering. "So how long…how long did you…fight it?"

"I did two rounds of chemo and radiation, because it was a higher stage when they found it and the cancer went away…and then a year ago my liver function tests were abnormal. More tests later, they ended up removing a portion of the liver; with the tumor…did more radiation. Chemo….more radiation…" She chuckled, wiping at her eyes, whispering. "And this morning they said that there is a very good chance it has still spread and I will have to go through more."

Good God. Tim bit his lower lip, glancing at her. She seemed…unaffected. He figured he'd be drinking himself to death and not even fighting, but…Anne seemed like it wasn't a big deal. He glanced at Sophie, who was swinging on a swing, her hair brushing the ground; she was leaning so far back.

He had a sick feeling in his stomach; he looked at his mother. She was still smiling, watching Sophie. "Are you going to do it?"

No, he thought, already seeing her eyes sliding away from Sophie towards his. She shook her head, mouthing the word. "No."

No more treatment.

He leaned back into the bench. That just changed things. He cleared his throat, his voice cracking. "How…how long?"

"Few months. Maybe."

The words tumbled from his lips, before he knew what he was saying. "So you're just going to stop? You're not going to keep fighting? You have a kid!"

"And all Sophie has ever known is a mother who is too sick to do anything. I don't want her to have that," Anne said. She glanced back at Sophie, whispering. "It's something I didn't expect to have to decide, but it's what I'm deciding."

And where would Sophie go, when you died?

Anne continued. "Sophie is very close with a dear friend of mine who never had children. She'll get custody."

"And her dad?"

"He's in prison for a few more years. I don't intend for him to ever see her again."

And me, he thought briefly. What about me?

"And I hope that you will continue to see Sophie. She really loves you already. Talks about you all the time." Anne leaned closer to him, her fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. He wanted to shake her off, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She smiled, leaning in to him, whispering. "I don't want to have to put any of this on you Tim. Believe me when I say that all I wanted was to just see you again…have Sophie meet you. What you've done is more than I ever…ever expected you to do. Or even want to do."

Yeah, me too, he thought, reaching his hand back to cover hers. It was kind of nice.

He couldn't forgive her, if that's what she wanted. He wasn't sure he cared enough at this point. Too much time had passed.

"Thank you, Timmy."

She still called him that. He didn't mind.

He took them back to their house, staying for most of the evening, finally leaving after putting Sophie to bed, later that night. Tim went to the front door, Anne walking him out to the front stoop. "Thanks," he whispered, smiling a little at her. "For letting me hang out with her."

"Thank you." Anne smiled. She frowned slightly, whispering. "Please don't tell Billy…I want to be the one to tell him. About…about my decision."

"I think it's a mistake," he said. He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "If you want back in our lives…fight for yours. Mom."

You're punishing yourself, is what you're doing, he thought but he didn't say it. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, since Tyra, Lyla, Becky, and just about everyone else in his life had accused him more than once of doing similar things.

Anne shook her head, whispering. "I want to see my daughter and not have her see me as this…this balding mess of a woman who can't keep food down and who won't get out of bed for months."

"And I want to see my mom too," he said. He shook his head, stepping off the stoop, waiting a second and then turning around, trying to keep his voice level. "You said you got sick and you maybe knew it was over or something, when you came to find me, but…but I don't want to know you as a sick person either. I don't want you to come back just to die, okay?"

She blinked through tears. "Timmy…"

"That's my opinion on the matter. Mom," he said, his voice cool. He shook his head, walking towards his truck, his boot heels clicking on the walkway. He reached for the handle of his truck, glancing over his shoulder; she was still standing there, watching him.

He sighed. "I'll see you this weekend. I'm not working Saturday. Maybe Sophie wants to go to the zoo or something."

"I think she'd like that."

"Fine. See you."

He climbed up into the truck and drove away, thinking about the whole thing the entire four-hour drive back to Dillon. By the time he went to sleep, he'd have to wake up again, but he didn't really care anymore. He'd gotten good at operating on only one or two hours of sleep.

Anne might not want to die, but she was planning it. Maybe it was her decision, but he didn't like it. Guess he'd respect it. He supposed.

He just wasn't sure what to make of it.

Tim dropped all his stuff on the counter, trudging up the stairs and into his room, stripping down to his briefs and crawling into the bed. He sighed, turning slightly. His eyes opened, staring at the ceiling.

He fingers drifted over the empty space beside him, turning his head sideways.

Where….what…

There was a note on the nightstand. He rolled onto his stomach, picking it up, scanning it in the dim light filtering in from the open window behind him. He mumbled out loud, processing. "Sorry Tim, needed to stay home tonight…going to be busy next few days…see you around. L."

Couldn't even spell out your name, huh?

He crumpled it up, throwing it to the floor, flopping backwards and tugging the sheet over his shoulders. Right now he just wasn't in the mood to deal with Lyla.

Besides, she'd been avoiding him the past week or so anyway. Only seeing him at the bar, really. He didn't care. Or at least, tried not to care.

They weren't together.

He closed his eyes; he had to sleep. Lyla Garrity problems could wait.


	14. Options

**A/N:**FYI, Tyra appears in Chapter 17. Her role is small, but she kind of kicks Lyla's ass. Metaphorically :) Thank you for all the reviews and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Options**

Why are you avoiding him? Seriously?

Lyla sat in the coffee shop near the UT campus, sipping at her latte, her foot bouncing nervously, looking up when the door opened again. She couldn't believe she was doing this.

Her father was going to kill her.

A sharply dressed man walked towards her, offering his hand. "Lyla Garrity?"

"Yes, you must be Mr. Williams," she said, standing and plastering a smile to her face, hoping it didn't seem too fake. She tugged at the crisp white button-down she'd chosen this morning to go with her nice dark gray suit. Her nails were freshly manicured and she'd done her hair a bit more professionally, looped back behind her head in a knot.

The restaurateur from Austin took a seat across from her, setting down his briefcase, smiling. "It's good to finally meet you, I feel like I've been speaking with your voicemail so much, we're on a first-name basis."

She smiled, chuckling. "I'm sorry about that, it's just been so busy." You know, busy screwing your ex-boyfriend every single day, helping him with his long-lost mother problems, newfound little sister issues, and the just general day-to-day craziness of being 'friends' with Tim Riggins.

Plus there was the bar.

Focus Garrity, focus. This was the bar.

Travis Williams, the restaurateur, had been bugging her since he'd found Buddy's while he was in Dillon checking on the first 'Ray's BBQ' location, looking to expand that franchise from Dallas to Austin and possibly further. He liked he was he saw, but her father had blown him off.

Well she'd found that out and now, well, Buddy was going to kill her if he knew she'd taken this meeting behind his back. Lyla tucked her bangs behind her ear; glad they were long enough now to do that. "I wanted to thank you for taking my call, and for meeting me here and not at your office, I don't have much time, so I'm sorry…I know my father told you that he didn't want to franchise quite yet, but…"

"Actually," Travis said, smiling slowly. "I wanted to talk to you about franchising, don't get me wrong, but what I really wanted to discuss with you is a job opportunity."

Job?

Lyla blinked. She was in Austin to take this meeting, to help her father out, and to find an apartment. Tim was off with Sophie and Anne, doing whatever it was he did when he drove to Austin to visit them. She cleared her throat, trying to smile. "Um, I'm sorry, I…I'm going to medical school in the fall, I…job?"

Travis nodded. He was kind of slimy; any guy that wore a pinky ring was slimy to her. It was even a little disconcerting to see that he was fairly young; Lyla knew he was a trust-fund baby. Bars and restaurants were kind of his hobby. He leaned forward, smiling again; his capped teeth sparkled. "Yes, I was out at Buddy's Bar last year, when you first started to work on it and I can say without fail that your improvements to it in the last year are what got my company's attention to franchise it."

Not my father? Well duh, she thought, clearing her throat. "So you want to offer me a job?" she laughed, shrugging. Maybe she'd hear him out. "Well, since I'm going to be a doctor and my major is in Biochemistry…"

"I did my research. You have a second major in business. Top in your class at Vanderbilt. Real-world experience taking a dive bar in backwoods to Texas to something that my company would want to franchise. You have what we're looking for Ms. Garrity." Travis leaned forward on the table, folding his hands, his eyebrows rising to his perfectly coiffed bronze hair. "I believe that you would be an asset to my company. I am opening a bar in New Orleans, in the French Quarter of course. It's modern, suave, and designed for high-end visitors, not the usual fare on Bourbon Street. I feel like you would do well there. You have a sharp eye and you know what people want. You've made a dive Texan bar into a novelty."

My dad did that. I just suggested some things, she thought, biting at her lower lip. She shook her head, her voice quiet. "I just suggested things."

"I did my research," Travis repeated. He reached into his briefcase, removing a packet, setting it across the table towards her. "I'm prepared right now to offer you this as your salary, you'll have moving expenses, and benefits of course. You can start in September, finish up your summer at your father's bar."

I have medical school, she thought, glancing at the packet, turning to the front page, her eyes almost falling out of her head at the dollar amount he wanted to give her. Holy crap! "I'd be entry level," she hissed.

"You'd be managing a bar in New Orleans. That requires certain things that that salary will cover."

Yeah and then some. Lyla closed it, lifting her eyes, and shaking her head. "I don't have a graduate degree."

"My company has programs for that. You can get your MBA at any university you choose and we'll give you a sabbatical, provided you return to us after your studies."

An MBA. Not an MD.

This was too much, too fast. Lyla looked over at him, clearing her throat and whispering. "I really…really don't know…"

"Think about it. You can call me any time." Travis flicked his card over, winking. "For the job or for a drink, whichever you want."

Oh good Lord, he was flirting with her too.

Lyla smiled quickly. "Thank you…would you care to discuss Bdudy's Bar now? Because I took time out of my day to meet with you Mr. Williams and while it's nice you've offered me a job, I'm not going back to Dillon unless I've heard the options."

Travis waited a beat; she wondered if she overstepped her bounds, her eyes not breaking from his. Nor did she stand, even though he was half-up and half-down in his chair. He ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly sinking back into the chair, wagging his finger at her. "You're good."

She flashed a quick smile, dropping the packet into her bag, reaching for the proposal she'd brought with her. "Okay, let's talk options."

An hour later, she left the coffee shop, shaking his hand and saying she'd let him know if she accepted his offer, which he again pleaded with her to accept. A bar manager, but…high-end bar. Like, running a business and everything.

It wasn't what she wanted, not…not really. Medical school, that's why I'm here, she thought, walking down to the campus. She had some apartments nearby to check on.

A few hours later, she'd found an apartment, Tim meeting her outside of it. "Got it?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, shoving a copy of her lease into her tote bag. She took her hair from her face; the knot had long ago fallen apart. It was time to get back to Dillon; she was feeling antsy being away from the bar for so long. She cleared her throat, looking up at him, walking towards his truck.

They hadn't talked much since the night that Anne and Sophie first came to the house; mostly because she was embarrassed about her little breakdown she'd had, she wasn't sure if he'd heard her or not.

Then of course, he was busy with work, both jobs. Anne and Sophie, naturally. She'd come to Austin last weekend, to go to the zoo with him and Sophie, which had been fun. The little girl was very Riggins.

At night though…they'd only spent a couple together, mostly just screwing around, not really talking about anything serious. They were fading away, she thought, glancing up at him, walking along the sidewalk. "So," she whispered, clearing her throat. "How was Sophie?"

"Good."

"You seem to get on well with her."

He nodded, whispering. "Yeah, she's a good kid."

"You have a baby sister, it's cute."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Yeah, I guess so." He glanced towards the campus, nodding. "You know I never came here to see Tyra. She was only four hours away…took her a year and a half to finally come back to Dillon."

"You talk much with her?" Lyla didn't know why she asked that; maybe because he'd offered up the information.

Tim shook his head. "Naw…she's in California, she just…has her life, that's pretty much it." He smiled briefly. "Got your med school stuff?"

"Yeah." She'd ordered her books; they'd bill her later. She didn't want to start studying or reading or anything. The proposal weighed in her mind. Maybe…no, Tim couldn't…eh…she wasn't sure if she should tell him or not.

They reached the campus, Tim choosing a bench, slouching backwards, lifting his face up to the sky. "I don't want to drive back yet, sit down."

Lyla sat beside him, her hands fisting in her knees. She glanced down at her big black tote bag; the proposal just stared up at her. They'd come to a decent agreement on Buddy's Bar, but since she wasn't an official owner, Buddy would find out about it sooner than later, if Travis wanted to pursue the options and the investment.

She cleared her throat, whispering after a second. "So…you know a couple weeks ago? In bed…after Anne and Sophie left…what I said?"

"Not really."

Of course not.

"You…you said you had plans."

Tim nodded slowly, whispering. "Yes. I do have plans."

"Well…I said…" Lyla closed her eyes. Just say it Garrity. "I said I didn't know if I wanted my plans…you were asleep and…and I really…really don't know if I do, but…" She reached into her bag, taking out the proposal, turning it towards him, her voice lifting slightly. "I met with this guy, he owns a company, and they invest in restaurants and bars. I wanted to talk to him about the bar, but…he offered me a job. In New Orleans."

Tim took the proposal, flicking through it, and handed it back to her after a moment. He looked around at the campus, waiting a moment. Say something, she begged. She didn't meet his eyes, staring ahead. "I don't know what to say to him, I just…I'm going to med school in the fall."

"Do you seriously want that Garrity?"

I don't know what I want. This seemed so…so full of risk. Risks she wasn't comfortable taking. No real experience or education on running a business and he wanted her to run one? In New Orleans? A whole new adventure…she wasn't sure if she wanted to take it.

I don't know what I want.

Lyla Garrity, clueless about her future…seemed like she was in high school again. For a brief moment there she was confident and she was sure of it. She was still confident and she was still sure of some things, but this?

Lyla took a deep breath, whispering. "I want to help people, Tim. That's what I want, okay? I wanted to get a good education and I want to help people. I want to help kids…kids like Jason, who break their necks and kids like you and me, who just need someone to give them answers…I just want to help. I think medicine is a good…good fit for me."

"Well I don't."

Of course you don't. Lyla sighed, whispering. "What do you think about it Tim?"

"I think you're just doing what you think someone else wants. I thought you were done with that." Tim cleared his throat. He turned her towards him, smiling, his head cocking slightly. "You're different Garrity but in a good way. You know what you want and you're choosing…choosing yourself and what you want. Don't do this because you think your dad wants it or because you think that just because you want to help people that means going to school and doing something you don't…you're not…not crazy about."

He tapped the proposal still sitting on her knees, whispering. "I think this is the best option you've gotten. I think you should do this, but…" He shrugged, whispering. "It doesn't matter what I want."

Tim got up, walking back towards the sidewalk, glancing over his shoulder. "You coming? Sophie drew you a picture, it's in the truck."

Lyla quirked her lip up. She glanced back at the campus. The medical school was on the other side. She got up, gathering her bag, shoving the proposal back into it. Medical school…

At this point she could just throw both things in the air and pick one, that's how torn she was on what she really wanted in her life.

They drove back to Dillon in almost complete silence. Tim dropped her off at her dad's apartment, not saying a word, just waving slightly at her before he drove away.

It was probably easier this way; easier for when she had to leave, that they were staying away from each other. Keeping that distance. They could still be friends like this. Just friends that didn't sleep together.

A part of her was relieved. He didn't need to be dealing with her while he dealt with his mother's illness and reappearance. Or Sophie.

Lyla went up into the apartment, going to the bedroom and closing the door behind her. She slumped against it, falling down to the floor, her eyes closed.

What do you want, she thought, hearing her own words in her head. The words that ultimately spelled out to Tim the doom of their…their torrid teenage romance.

It felt like Tim had just turned them on her.

And like Tim, she didn't have the right answer.

Or at least, what she thought was the right answer.


	15. Happy

**Chapter 15: Happy**

It was here.

Tim walked out of the post office, over to his truck. He set his keys on the hood, reaching to open the manila envelope. His fingers were trembling; how stupid did that make him feel? It was just a dumb piece of paper.

He reached in, slowly removing the paperwork, smiling down at the official piece of paper, with the seal and everything. He ran his finger over the finished thing, smiling to himself.

I did it, wow.

Texas didn't have a general contractor license, anyone could call themselves that, but locally you had to register, depending on your county. He'd gone ahead, at the request of his current boss, and registered with a couple of the local counties. This was his first official document.

Tim Riggins, General Contractor, he thought, smiling and turning the paper over. He slipped it back into the envelope. It was cool. Now all he had to do was just keep it at whatever construction site he was working.

He reached for the second envelope, removing the paperwork, smiling again. Seemed like a good day for him. He'd officially passed his HVAC test. Now he could go ahead and get the license from the state of Texas.

What a great day, he thought, shoving everything into the envelopes, climbing up into his truck. He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Lyla pulling her car into a space a couple down from him. He frowned; she'd kind of been…hiding from him the past week or so.

They'd gone to Austin together, but he'd gone off to play with Sophie, while Lyla focused on whatever it was she was doing there, looking for an apartment and meeting that restaurant guy. They'd come back and it had just been…they saw each other at the bar, but they hadn't really spent time together.

In fact, he realized that they hadn't spent the night together in a week.

He wondered if she made a decision on the bar job thing that guy offered her.

"Hey, Garrity," he called out, leaning out the window as she passed.

"Oh. Geez Tim."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He got out of the truck, closing the door beside him. He stepped towards her, smiling, his hands going to his hips. "What's going on, haven't seen you for a couple days, you hiding?"

"Working," she said, pushing her hand through her hair. She looked really tired, her eyes ringed in dark circles and her hair looking duller than usual. Lyla lifted up an envelope, whispering. "Check for that apartment I found, last week."

"Oh, yeah…when…when are you going?"

"Late August, I…I have to move in about three days before classes begin."

Late August. That still meant that they had about…about a month left together. And she hadn't chosen the New Orleans thing. He pursed his lips, not happy with that.

Wasn't his business, he told himself.

He cocked his head, whispering. "I have to work at the bar tonight, you going to be there?"

"Yeah, yeah…I'm closing too."

"I'll pick you at your dad's. We can go back to my house tonight."

Lyla shrugged, whispering. "Tim…"

It was that stupid night. The night he met Sophie for the first time. Whatever they said while they were drunk or tired or whatever…he heard her whispering, after he'd said what he said about having plans. About how she didn't have any. Well, clearly she figured them out in two weeks.

Because she was sending off a check for an apartment and making her plans to leave. Guess she was going to medical school after all. He wasn't sure that was a good idea, though. None of his business, he reminded himself.

They weren't going to go beyond a summer romance anyway, they'd basically agreed on that.

They were friends.

"For….for a drink or something Garrity." That's it. That's all.

She quirked her lip up. "We work in a bar, Tim."

"I work in a bar, you just steal half my tips at the end of the night," he teased, reaching to pinch at her waist. She darted back, lifting her finger, warning him. He smiled, cocking his head. It wasn't that hard. See Garrity? He smiled, whispering. "Please. I've missed your…presence."

There. He said it.

"I…Tim I'll drive myself. It'll be easier, one of us might be drunk at the end of the night, what with all those shots the women buy you." Haha, very funny, but he smiled anyway.

They both paused, while Lyla shook her hand through her hair again, before she reached to smooth her hand over his shirt, frowning. "Is that my shirt?"

He looked down at the Dillon football shirt. "It's my shirt."

"No, that's my shirt, I left it at your house."

"Well you stole it from me, I'm taking it back."

"I'll let you have it," she said, smiling. She stepped towards him, whispering, lifting her eyes. "You okay? With your mom and everything?"

They could talk about that later. At work.

He didn't say anything, gesturing for her to go to the post office. "Better mail that before they close. I'll see you in a couple hours." He climbed up into his truck, watching her head into the building, giving him a smile over her shoulder.

Friends.

Yeah, that was like half-friends, half…well, half ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend. Like how it was when she first showed up for the summer. Hell, he'd hoped that was beyond them, despite the events of the last couple weeks.

He drove through Dillon, killing some time until he had to be at the bar. He pulled up into the back parking lot, not bothering to go over to the football stadium and watch practice. Billy didn't like it when he showed up, because the offense only listened to him. Billy said it 'undermined his authority.'

How Billy knew what that word was, he didn't know.

Tim changed t-shirts, going into the bar, popping his head into the office, and leaning against the doorknob. He rolled his eyes at kissy-kissy Buddy and Angela. Must have made up. "Hey, I'm here early. Lyla's on her way."

"Wait, Tim! Come back!"

He leaned back into the office, seeing Angela hurrying towards him in her too-tight Buddy's t-shirt and high heels. "Honey, I wanted to let you know before you ran into her, but Tyra's coming back to visit for a week! She'll be here a week from Sunday, isn't that fantastic?"

Fantastic? Hell no it wasn't fantastic! He'd have Tyra and Lyla hovering around each other with him in the middle. Great. He swallowed hard, whispering. "Sure, sounds great."

"Can you pick her up at the airport?"

Ah…week from Sunday? He had to be in Austin. He shook his head, whispering. "No, I can't."

"Oh, why not?"

Buddy looked over at him, frowning. "Where's Lyla?"

"She's mailing stuff for school, um, I can't pick up Tyra, Angela, sorry about that, I have to…" He sighed, whispering. Best to let someone else know. It was bound to get around town anyway. If it wasn't already. "I have to watch my little sister."

Anne had another doctor's appointment. The last time he'd spoken with her on the phone, she'd sounded like she was on the verge of death, barely able to speak. At the time, thankfully, Sophie was at a friend's house. He wasn't sure how someone her age even managed to have a baby, let alone raise her while she was sick.

He didn't think that was fair to Sophie.

The look on Angela's face was shock, as well as Buddy. "Sister?" Angela whispered. She shook her head, eyes wide. "Honey…you…"

He nodded. "Yeah I have a sister, Mindy knew." Probably Angela already knew, she was just playing surprised to cover for Mindy. Not that he cared. In an odd way, Angela was family to him. He looked over at Buddy, who was frowning. "Lyla knows too, she's met her." He met Angela's gaze again. "Tyra doesn't know. You can tell her, I guess. If you want."

If you really want to know why, I'll tell you. In fact, best to get it out. "My mom has cancer, I'm watching out for Sophie." Tim glanced at Buddy, calling out. "I'll be out at the bar if you need me."

And now they could sit and stew with their questions or start calling the papers to let the whole town of Dillon know that Tim Riggins's mother was back in his life and he had a little sister he was taking care of.

He went out into the bar, looking up when the door opened. Oh, great. He was waiting for her to show up.

Becky marched towards him. "I want a beer."

"You're too young, now get out of here."

"I have an I.D.!"

Tim grabbed the piece of plastic from her, staring at it. He glanced over the top, studying Becky. "You were born in 1986?"

"Yes."

"So how old are you?"

Becky screwed up her face, but didn't break eye contact with him. She groaned, grabbing the fake I.D. back from him and shoving it into her purse, poking a finger into his chest. "You know that worked at the convenience store last week."

"That's because Paul Evans works at the convenience store and he's in love with you, here." Tim reached beneath the bar into one of the chests, removing a Diet Coke and passing it towards her. He sighed, leaning against the bar. Now that that was done with, on to the real reason for her visit. "What are you doing here Becks?"

"I heard about your sister. When can I meet her? I still have to meet her."

"Becky…"

"So Tyra's coming back in a couple weeks to visit for Fourth of July, Billy and Mindy are going to have a big party, are you going to come?"

Probably. He shrugged, whispering. "I don't know."

"You going to bring Lyla?"

"Bring Lyla where?"

Tim glanced over his shoulder, seeing Lyla emerge from the back corridor. She'd changed since when he left her at the post office, wearing her uniform of dark jeans, boots, and a white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. It was what he called a 'manager's uniform.'

Which in effect, she was of this place.

She leaned against the bar, smiling at Becky. "Hi Becky, how are you?"

They knew each other? Oh yeah, that's right, they'd met a couple of times. He gestured towards Becky, glancing down at Lyla. "Um, Tyra is coming back for Fourth of July…there's going to be a party, Becky was…" he trailed off, not even finishing.

Because Becky just put a smile on her face. "I wanted to know if Tim would bring you to the party. He didn't answer. Luke is coming home on leave, he's at Ft. Benning; he's a paratrooper." She held up her left hand, wiggling the state ring. "Luke is my fiancé."

"Congratulations," Lyla said, her voice soft. She shrugged, straightening up, keeping her voice level. "Well, if Tim wants me to go, I'll go. I have no immediate plans for Fourth of July." She took a deep breath, smiling at him. "You talk to Sophie about bringing her out here?"

No, he hadn't. He shook his head, walking away from Becky and Lyla, not in the mood to talk further on the topic. He knew where Becky stood on the matter of him and Tyra. She still had a little girl mentality, that they could all be one happy family, she was basically like his little sister and Mindy and Tyra were sisters and he and Billy were brothers and it would just be romantic and like out of a movie or something.

He also knew how she felt about Lyla, she'd been vocal on the topic, last Christmas. Saying how Lyla broke his heart, she didn't want him hurt; she loved him, blah blah blah. Bunch of little girl talk, he thought.

After a few minutes of talking with Lyla, Becky left, not saying a word to him. Now she was mad. What the hell did she want him to do? He knew she was annoyed she still hadn't met Sophie, but Mindy and Billy had.

At the end of the night, after Lyla locked up and he forcibly removed a couple of the hanger-ons, he did what he and Lyla usually did, before she started counting money and he started sweeping, mopping, and dusting.

Two shot glasses and some of Buddy's finest tequila, which was Lyla's favorite bit of hard liquor. He set the limes out and the saltshaker, smiling at her as she took the lime. "To another good night," Lyla said, clinking her glass to his, before she did the salt and lime routine, making a face. "I can never get used to that."

He bypassed the salt and lime, choosing to just throw the shot back down his throat, sticking his tongue out and making a face. "That didn't sit right, need another."

"Just one, you know the drill." Lyla pushed the bottle away, leaning her elbow on the bar, propping her head up, and spinning the glass around, little flecks of tequila spraying them both. She sighed. "So the check? I mailed it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I still have to get my books…start studying."

He nodded, turning his glass over on the bar. He glanced around at the bar, whispering. "We have to clean up."

"Yeah."

Yeah. He leaned on the bar, slouching over it, smiling at her. "You're really gonna' go to medical school, huh? That what you want?"

Lyla forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah."

Yeah, he didn't think that was what she wanted, but…she was the one who was making the decisions, not him. He smiled again, glancing back to the bar. They still had a ton of work to do.

Not saying anything, he took the glasses and the tequila, putting them away and started the closing routine; she disappeared into the office to do all that stuff. When she was done, she came out, helping him with sweeping and then putting the chairs up on the tables.

She'd taken off her button down shirt and was walking around in her tank-top, her hair piled on top of her head. Reaching up, she brushed a drop of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, sighing, her hands going to her hips, looking over at him, finishing with polishing the bar. "I'll go turn off the lights."

"Yeah." Tim put the cleaning supplies away; coming back out to find the lights were off, save for the beer signs hanging in the windows and the dull streetlights coming in through the blinds.

He picked up his keys. "You coming?"

"You know…" Lyla reached back, shaking her hair out, her hands returning to her hips. She lifted an eyebrow, her face shadowed in the dim lights. She shrugged, whispering. "I've had this thought…since you and I started our…friends with benefits agreement."

That still on the table? He wasn't sure. Tim turned, setting his keys down. "Yeah?" he whispered, stepping slowly towards her. He wondered if the back door was locked.

"Uh-huh."

"What's that thought?"

"You know how we used to be…adventurous?" She widened her eyes slightly, smiling in spite of herself, reaching to pull him towards her by his belt-buckle, starting to tug at it. "I've been thinking…especially tonight, I just don't want to think, you know? Just…don't want to think about school or Austin and I know you don't want to think about your mom, so…"

With a soft grunt, he lifted her up onto the bar, which was actually pretty high off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist. He pulled her face down to his, kissing hard, her fingers snaking through his hair, returning the kiss. He broke away a second later, whispering. "You lock the back door?"

"It's been locked," she gasped, pulling him back to her again, falling onto the bar.

There was no way Tim was going to be able to look at this bar again in the same way, he thought, laughing as Lyla began to giggle, the whole situation completely absurd. She smiled against his lips. "This what you had in mind when you wanted a drink?"

No way, but then again, he also didn't have talking in mind either, silencing her with another kiss, their boot heels knocking into the bar when she finally tugged him up over her, kicking something over to crash on the floor.

He laughed against her mouth, whispering. "You're cleaning that up."

Lyla snorted, before she descended into giggling, barely able to contain herself.

He smiled; happy.


	16. Memories

**A/N**: Thank you all for the reviews! We meet Tyra in Monday's chapter (or tomorrow, I haven't decided if I want to update over the weekend). Enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter 16: Memories**

Lyla ignored the nagging voice in the back of her head, that little "you made a mistake! You made a mistake!" alarm that just kept chirping at her, almost in the form of a parrot voice, because it was just that annoying. She was sick of that damn voice.

Which probably meant she should listen to it.

She looked out the window, Tim driving through the nice neighborhood in Georgetown, Texas, a suburb of Austin. She pointed towards the dark blue sedan, recognizing it as Anne's. "I think that's it there."

"I know Garrity, I've been here."

Yeah, but I haven't.

She climbed out of the truck, smiling when the front door opened, Sophie rushing out and down the walkway, her arms up. "Tim!" she exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. "Hi!"

It was so funny with little kids; depending on the kid, Lyla had found they either forgot you completely or you became their every thought and when they saw you again, it was like they hadn't seen you in years, when in reality it had only been days.

Once again she also noted how alike Sophie and Tim were. They both smiled the same, their eyes were the same color and Sophie had that strange little knowing look that Tim often had, despite her age, she seemed far wiser. Tim always had seemed that way to her.

She waved at Sophie, who lit up when she saw her. "Hey there Sophie."

"Hi Lyla, you're very pretty."

That was one thing that Tim never had, and that was Sophie was very direct. Lyla chuckled, walking over and patting Sophie's shoulder, leading her back to the house. "And you look very pretty as well."

They went up into the house, Tim taking the lead, going into a sunroom at the back of the house, where Anne was seated on a loveseat, a blanket over her lap. She looked even sicker from when Lyla last saw her; her face thin and her eyes sunk into the back of her head.

"Thank you for taking her," she whispered, looking up at Tim, who leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Since when was he doing that, Lyla wondered. Last she was aware with Tim, he and Anne were still feeling their way around each other. She'd have to talk to him about it all. That couple week period, she'd tried to stay away from him as best as she could; only seeing him at work.

Probably one of the dumber things she'd tried to do; it didn't help matters. They were right back where they were before. Having fun, being friends, and ignoring the idea and not discussing, what would happen when she left.

She pushed that out of her mind now, focusing on Anne. "Hello there," she whispered, still fighting that torn feeling inside of her for trying to be supportive of Tim's mother and her battle…and the feeling deep inside where all she wanted to do was yell at the woman for just leaving him.

Anne smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Hello Lyla, it's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you as well, how are you feeling, can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Sophie, sweetheart, why don't you go in your playroom? I need to talk to Tim."

Sophie seemed a tad put out, but went off anyway to her playroom, where she could be heard singing along to a video that played on a small TV in the corner of the room. Lyla wondered if maybe she should give them some privacy, so she stood up, but Anne reached her hand out, touching her wrist.

"Please stay," the older woman whispered.

Lyla glanced at Tim, who just shrugged, sitting beside Anne on the loveseat. She swallowed hard, taking a seat on the ottoman in front of Anne. This seemed like a conversation where they all needed to be…close.

Anne closed her eyes, whispering. "Tim…" she took a few breaths, touching her chest lightly. She shook her head, whispering. "It's…not looking good…I…maybe a few weeks…"

A few weeks? Lyla looked instantly at Tim, who wasn't showing any reaction. Inside though, she knew something was going on. He dropped his head, his eyes darting from side to side, looking anywhere but at Anne.

"I just…I just wanted you to know…" Anne wiped at her eyes, whispering. "I don't know…know why you're here with me. You have every right to just leave. I left you. I was just…an angry, horrible woman and I…and I blamed my children for my own problems and I left and I can't ever change the regret I feel."

"But I just want to…to thank you for what you're doing." She took as deep a breath as she could, coughing. Her thin hand reached for Tim's, squeezing. He didn't move, until after a second, he turned his hand around, returning the squeeze. She shook her head, whispering. "I'm sorry, I just…it's on my mind right now…but…" She blinked a few times. "Remember when we went to San Antonio?"

Lyla smiled a little, looking at Tim, who lowered his head, nodding. "Yeah," he whispered. He smiled slightly. "Billy got lost at the Alamo."

How do you get lost at the Alamo, Lyla wondered, but she wanted to hear the story, so she leaned forward a little, not saying a word.

Anne smiled, nodding and whispering. "And you said you wanted to be a Texas Ranger, because one of them found Billy."

"Yeah. That was a long time ago."

"You were so little, your hair was almost as long as it was now, you always liked it long."

Tim shrugged, whispering. "I hate scissors."

Anne took another breath, which rattled in her throat, coughing a few times. She lightly pushed Tim's hand away when he went to rest it against her shoulder. She shook her head, whispering. "I'm fine, in a few days, I'll be right as rain, why don't…why don't you go to Sophie? She's been talking about you for days."

"Maybe you should go to the doctor," Tim said, keeping his voice soft. He seemed concerned, his brow furrowing. He glanced around at the table, picking up the phone. "Maybe…I'll call…"

"No. No." Anne took the phone from him, shaking her head. She smiled, her eyes closing. "Tim, I've had this for the last three years…I thought I beat it once, but it just came back worse, I told you. The treatment…I'm done, I told you."

Lyla kind of suspected, when Anne took Tim's hand, squeezing it tight. "Timmy I told you a few weeks ago, when you picked me up at the hospital…I can't do this anymore, it's not fair…the scan came back, it's spread further."

He frowned. "So…so you're not going to try anymore?"

Anne shook her head, whispering. "No."

Tim frowned. "You should try."

"No, Tim…it's better this way. I told you, honey, I don't want her knowing her whole life that I'm sick, only for me to die anyway. I am going to celebrate my last few months with her. As normally as I can."

Lyla said nothing; it wasn't her place. She would have fought. If you had a five-year old…she'd think even if the percentage were small, it was still a percentage. But she wasn't in that situation; it wasn't her business.

Tim glared at Anne, almost looking as though he resented her. Maybe he did, for putting him in a position of finally getting to know her again, only for her to die on him. Lyla wasn't sure. He got up, walking away and into the playroom, taking Sophie outside, leaving the two of them alone.

Anne turned her head, shaking it slightly. "I know you probably think I should fight."

Not my business. Lyla nodded. "Can I ask why…why you're not?"

"It's spread. It's still there, after everything I've done…it was aggressive when they found it, but…it's spread to my lungs now. All chemo and radiation would do is prolong the inevitable. That's the only memory Sophie would have of me."

Oh God.

Lyla closed her eyes, breathing a few times, before she whispered. "I am so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry." Anne cocked her head, reaching her hand over to touch Lyla's. She lifted her voice a little. "You seem very good for Tim. He seems very happy around you. What little I've seen."

Yeah, he's happy now. Until our differences come to light and then we're not happy at all. She smiled, trying to fake…something. "Tim is a good guy."

"He is a good guy." Anne smiled sadly. "A not-so-good guy would have told me to just leave. He'd never think of me again, but…Tim always felt very deeply."

Yes, yes Tim did feel deeply. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Don't say it Lyla. It's not your business. She folded her hands in her lap, clenching her knuckles tight. "Anne," she began. No, don't say it. Don't ask. She closed her eyes. "Did you ever think of him after…after you left? He was your son…did you ever think about what was going to happen to him after you left?"

Anne drew back slightly, surprised. Lyla lifted her eyes, waiting. The other woman's jaw tightened and she nodded quickly. "Yes. Of course I did, until…until I didn't. It's awful of me…I'm still trying to accept that I…that I got the help I needed…"

Help?

"What kind of help?" Lyla asked, although she suspected. Tim told her of mood swings. Told her how sometimes she was a good mother and other days she'd sit outside and drink. Just drink for days, depressed and angry. Only to be happy again and go off the booze. Like a teeter-totter. She took a deep breath, guessing. "You have a mood disorder?"

"No, just…depression, alcoholism…" She shrugged, whispering. "I've been sober seven years this October. Now for what I did though. I just…just didn't know what it was until I got help, until I saw doctors and until I realized what I'd done. Until I went to rehab and stopped drinking." Anne shrugged, tears in her eyes. "And it was too late. I'd already met Jack, I was already pregnant with Sophie…I realized that Billy would be gone from the house and Tim would be living whatever life he was living."

She pointed to a box, sitting on a bookcase in front of her. "As for your question about whether I thought of them…get that please."

Lyla stood up, going to get the box as requested. She took a seat next to Anne, opening the lid and looked inside, her eyes widening at the various photographs and newspaper articles. She glanced at Anne, who was silently crying. "You kept tabs on them?"

"On Timmy. Mostly Timmy. He was my baby; I left my baby. Billy ran out of that house the day he turned 18. There wasn't much of him left to follow, but…" Anne reached in, removing a yellowed article, proclaiming the Dillon Panthers State Champions. She smiled. "Maybe one day he can know."

Maybe one day, Lyla agreed, understanding what Anne was telling her. Not to tell Tim. Let him find out on his own. She reached into the box, frowning slightly and removing an article, looking at it, her lip quirking upward. "Oh wow."

It was one of the school papers; she wondered how Anne got hold of it, for the Dillon senior prom. She'd dragged Tim, kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, forcing him into a suit and tie, and made him get her a corsage, so she could have one last hurrah. Unlike all the other times, her junior prom or the two times she was Homecoming Queen, this school dance she didn't win anything, because she refused to enter the race.

She wanted to have fun, not worry about what anyone thought of her. Plus, she had Tim Riggins as her date; she was already an envied girl in school and was already going to have a crazy time.

They were photographed, with Tim making a face and she was laughing beside him and in another next to it, she had her lips pursed, to kiss his cheek while he just tried to pull away, still laughing. They were both so drunk that night, if she remembered right. He'd done something for her, so she had to do something for him, and go to the after party at the lake. They'd passed out in the boat and woke up in the middle of the lake the next morning, laughing like idiots.

And a few weeks later, it all ended. That last summer wasn't much fun, kind of like now, with the two of them promising they'd be together, they could keep in touch with him in San Antonio and her in Nashville. She should have realized that wouldn't happen when he didn't come to say goodbye to her, the day she drove out of town.

Anne smiled again, whispering. "I knew I recognized you. I got that and wondered…wondered who was this girl that Tim was so enamored with. Was so happy with." She reached in and took another photo of Tim, with the small headline in the bottom. "Dillon Seniors Set to Play College Ball" and listed the ones who were going off to play somewhere else.

"He didn't go to school," Anne whispered, shaking her head, shrugging. "He would never do things unless he wanted to do them."

Very true. She nodded, whispering. "All he wanted was Texas. That's all. A home."

A home. That's all Tim ever wanted. Not for someone to change him, not to disappoint anyone…not to be alone somewhere, with nothing. At least, that's what she always thought.

"Is this you?"

The magazine article was faded, weathered. Lyla looked down at the picture of her and Jason together, with Tim standing off to the side. It was about Jason, but Tim was mentioned as his best friend; only because Jason brought it up in an interview. She was smiling, her arms around Jason, never letting go. That young, innocent first love…wow.

She hardly knew what that felt like anymore.

Lyla nodded, folding the article and setting it back inside. She closed the box, pushing it aside. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "That was a very long time ago."

"Really?" Anne whispered. She shrugged, still smiling. "Seems like you're still just as happy."

Please don't make this worse than it already was. Lyla got up, reaching for Anne's hand. "Why don't we see what they're up to out there? Do you feel like you can get up?"

"I'm feeling much better, thank you." Anne linked her arm in hers, walking out onto the back patio, waving at Sophie, who was on her swingset, Tim pushing her.

Lyla let Anne go, walking carefully towards Sophie. She crossed her arms, watching Tim smile at something Anne said to him. He was smiling around her. She released her breath, waiting for him to walk up to her. "Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Sophie wants to see you."

They walked back, but Lyla paused, looking up at him, whispering. She wanted to know something. "You're not…you're not angry with her anymore?" There was something different about him now.

Tim shook his head, looking down at his feet, whispering. "Angry? No. I can't change it. Besides…look at her." He nodded towards Anne, who seemed like she was going to break in half. He shook his head, whispering. "She's dying Lyla."

"And when she dies, Tim? Then what?"

He flinched when she went to touch his shoulder. He shook his head, whispering. "Then that's it." He glanced down at her, breathing. "No regrets Lyla."

Lyla watched him walk off, joining Sophie on the swingset. He was good with her. Then of course, he was good with most children. She met Anne's eyes over the tops of Sophie and Tim's heads, seeing the other woman, smiling sadly. She couldn't imagine what it was like to watch your children and know that you would be gone soon.

That you couldn't change what you'd already done.

She sighed, glancing back at Tim, worried. He was so into this right now. He was consuming himself with it.

And when it was finally over, she knew he'd be devastated.

I just hope I'm there when he finally realizes it, she thought.

"Lyla!" Sophie called, waving. "Come over please!"

"Okay," she laughed. She jogged over, going to sit beside Sophie, but Tim swung her around to sit on his knees on the swing, telling her to explain to Sophie about college, because Sophie wanted to be a vet one day, so she'd have to go to college.

With an arm around Tim's neck, Lyla told Sophie how hard college was and you needed to study and get good grades. She couldn't help but wonder, as she was talking and laughing with the little girl and with Tim, when it was all going to just end.

It was sad to think, but that day was coming sooner, rather than later.

So Lyla pushed it out of her mind, focusing on the now, which was good.


	17. Before the Storm

**Chapter 17: Before the Storm**

"You sure you're up for this?" Tim asked, walking around his house, the phone pressed to his ear. He picked up a pair of Lyla's sandals, which were in his way, tossing them into the laundry room.

He also found some her gross green juice in his fridge, where he thought he'd last had some orange juice. He pulled it out, pouring himself a glass; it took awhile to stomach the stuff, but she said it was 'healthy.' Whatever. He wanted orange juice.

Tilting it back, he listened to Anne say she was fine, she was looking forward to celebrating Fourth of July with his family and meeting his friends. His stomach flipped a few times. Yeah, meeting everyone.

It had been his idea, which he'd asked Billy, if it would be okay.

"You're dealing with any fallout," Billy had told him, walking away.

He guessed that meant it was okay. So he asked Anne if she wanted to bring Sophie. Mostly it was Sophie. He couldn't help it. If he didn't want to like her, he was failing miserably at it. Sophie was…well she was really cute and he really liked her. She was his little sister.

He wouldn't actually think the words, but yeah. She was his sister. He liked her.

Plus, he thought Anne would be up for it. She didn't seem as sick as she had the week before, when he took Lyla to visit with her. He wondered what they talked about.

Anne repeated that she was fine and she'd see him in a few hours. He hung up, setting the phone down on the counter. Mother. It was so strange, he thought, touching the phone again. He could talk to her now. She was…she was his mother.

A couple days ago in Austin she'd even told him he needed a haircut.

How motherly was that?

He wasn't sure he could forgive her, but…he smiled, sighing and glancing out the kitchen window. It wasn't…wasn't backfiring yet. It was nice, actually. Very nice.

Plus, she was getting better. Maybe what doctors said was just crap anyway.

They'd leave in a few minutes, but Lyla was still in the shower. What did she do in there? Always took damn near forever. He lifted his head from the green juice looking at the door as the bell gonged in the house.

Great, a visitor. He sighed, walking towards it, recognizing the outline of the person on the other side. His eyes darted up the stairs, hoping Lyla stayed up there. He wasn't sure he could deal with all this in one go. He took a deep breath, pulling the door open, revealing Tyra.

Tyra smiled, lifting her fingers in a wave. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

She stepped over the threshold, turning slowly, her fingers in her back belt loops. Her hair was now red; he wondered if she ever got tired of changing it. "How's California?" he asked, walking by her into the kitchen. He pointed to the green juice. "You want some?"

"What the hell is that?"

"I don't know something my girl…." He caught himself. Lyla wasn't his girlfriend. He shook his head, whispering. "Something a friend told me to drink."

Tyra seemed to have caught his slip, but said nothing, looking from the living room to the other side of the kitchen and out the French doors. "Tim, this is great. I can't believe how much work you've gotten done so far. It's looking like a real house."

Necessary pleasantries aside now, he thought.

"Thank you." He shook his hand in his hair, setting it on the counter. "So what's up? How's California?"

"It's okay. It's hot, but there's an ocean, I live a few blocks from it." Tyra glanced at him again, shrugging. "When are we going to talk about what you're not telling me?"

And what would that be? He shrugged, playing stupid. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know Tim…" Tyra sighed, holding her hands up. "I'm just going to get this off my chest now, okay?"

Okay, he guessed, shrugging.

"I don't pretend to know you like everyone thinks I do. I mean, yeah, would it be nice to know the guy I love, sure, why not, but hey…you don't tell anyone anything and I can't be a mind reader. I was stupid to think you'd changed completely from the guy I dated in high school," Tyra snapped, her hands on her hips. She glared at him, whispering. "I don't pretend to believe you love me like I loved you. Or that you didn't just use me like I used you. Or even that yeah, one day we could be together, because frankly Tim, I'm not coming back to Dillon and there's nothing that's going to keep me here. Not family, not you, not anything."

Yeah, he knew that. He shrugged, nodding. " Yeah."

"So you know, it's kidn of annoying to hear from my sister that you're beating yourself up because you think you pushed me out of Dillon. I'll let you know if you messed something up, but don't think I left because of you."

Okay.

Tyra arched an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. "I don't leave town because of a guy, okay? I'm not some pathetic mess of a girl, at least, I don't try to be. I left because I wanted to leave and I'm not staying in Dillon for you Tim."

Okay, he thought, nodding again.

"But…I like to think we can still be friends and you can still talk to me about things, guess that was stupid of me to think that, huh?"

What in the hell was she talking about? Tim pursed his lips, contemplating for a second. He shrugged, whispering. "You left. You don't want this place and quite frankly Tyra, I'm kind of tired of having girlfriends or whatever you were to me who hate Dillon when I love it." He dumped the green juice, washing out the glass, speaking over the sound of the water. "You want to talk about my mom, that it?"

"Good Lord Tim, I had to hear from Mindy, but that shouldn't surprise me you didn't tell me. I never knew about her when we were dating anyway."

No one knew about her. It wasn't something to talk about. Lyla only ever found out because certain things would crop up where she'd ask. Like when she found the picture of her in his dresser or when she found the snowglobe. Becky knew more about his mother because of that snowglobe than Tyra did.

That just wasn't him and Tyra. They didn't do things like that. They used each other, she got sick of his crap, and she left. Good for her. He turned around, leaning on the counter, whispering. "Yeah, my mom came back."

"And you have a sister?"

"Yup."

"Wow." Tyra shook her head, whispering, her head hanging. "I'm so stupid."

"Stupid? You're not stupid. Don't say that."

Tyra laughed, smiling at him, her eyes shining. "No, I'm stupid to think you'd confide in me on this. Where is she Tim?"

Where is who? He shook his head, whispering. "Austin."

"Not your mother, you know who I'm talking about."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Maybe he knew.

"Tim, don't lie to me, please. After everything we've been through…please don't lie to me."

He sighed, glancing at the doorway, just as Lyla rounded the corner, drying her hair with a towel and holding a basket under her arm with other dirty towels and clothes. "Hey Tim, I'm going to start your wash…" she trailed off, turning immediately when she walked into the kitchen, staring at Tyra. "Oh. Tyra."

Yes, Tyra.

Who only smiled knowingly, nodding towards him. "Hi Lyla. How are you?"

"Good, thanks…um, how is California?"

"It's good, it's good. UCLA is pretty cool."

"That's really great…um, Tim…I'm going to just…" Lyla scooted across the floor, going to set everything in the laundry room before she disappeared out a side door. Where the hell was she going? He shook his head. Women.

There was a strange, awkward silence in the room after Lyla's departure, until Tyra smiled, long and slow, whispering. "I'm pretty smart Tim. Knew it wasn't me you wanted."

He felt his hackles rise a bit at that. "It was you," he said.

"Tim, I know about your mother and father from Billy and Mindy. Not from you. Can Lyla say that?"

No. Lyla couldn't.

Tyra shook his head, whispering, her eyes meeting his again. "Face it Tim, we're better off as friends anyway. This was never going to work out. Kind of hard to be in love with someone who never really got over someone else…besides, there's that whole Dillon thing to contend with."

She set her hands on the counter, smiling. "Now…before this gets too soap opera…" She shrugged, smiling and cocking her head. "What's this little sister I hear about?"

He smiled, nodding, whispering. "Yes, I have a little sister." Were they really okay? Everything just swept under the rug and all that? He shook his head again. "So…you don't hate me?"

"Hate you? You frustrate me, because I never know how I feel about you. But no Tim, I don't hate you." Tyra leaned against the counter again, shrugging, her hair tossing out of her eyes. "So…when's the wedding?"

What wedding? He cocked his head, silently asking. Tyra chuckled, shrugging. "The wedding of Tim and Lyla of course. She's prissy, she's not going to let you just date her forever."

"There's no wedding, we're not together."

"Sure you are."

They weren't. He sighed, rolling his eyes and walking over to the fridge, removing the damn green juice. It was kind of addicting once you got used to it. "I'm not dating Lyla, Tyra. She's a friend."

"Like you and I are friends?"

"No, she's…she's a friend." He looked out the window, glancing at Lyla sitting on the porch swing. Crazy lady. He knocked on the window, opening it up and yelling out. "What are you doing? Come inside, it's hot out there!"

"Are you done with Tyra? I don't want to interrupt."

"Garrity get in here!" Tyra yelled.

A few minutes later, Lyla emerged from the doorway, setting down the book she was reading. She smiled politely at Tyra, but didn't go near her. "Hello Tyra."

"Hello again." Tyra leaned on the counter, folding her arms together. "How's being back in Dillon? I heard you're managing your dad's bar now."

"It's okay and…that's…that's only temporary." Lyla tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling again. She glanced at him. "Is Anne coming?"

"Yeah, she'll be here soon. Figured we'd drive over together. Might make it easier on her and Soph." Enough people were going to be curious, he didn't want her to just walk into the room and have everyone staring. Maybe if he were there it would…lessen things.

Or he could just beat up the people that got weird about it.

He nodded towards Lyla's red, white, and blue polo shirt, with her dark jeans that ended below her knee. Something called capris, he thought. "You look cute. Very American flag."

"It is Fourth of July," she said, chuckling. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, smiling again at Tyra. "It is nice to see you again Tyra. Congratulations on UT and UCLA."

"Yeah, thanks, so you're going to med school? Didn't think you wanted to be a doctor, Garrity. Always figured you'd end up some mogul or something." Tyra smiled. "You were always good at…acquisitions."

Oh come on, Tim thought, shaking his head, whispering. "Tyra."

"No it's fine," Lyla whispered, taking a deep breath and smiling. "She's right. I always liked business. Always liked what it entailed, but…but no, medical school is my choice. It's what I want. How about you Tyra? What are you going to school for?"

"Psychology."

"A shrink?"

"Yeah, I've spent enough time around crazy people, figured it's probably a good idea to figure out what goes on in their heads." Tyra pulled her car keys out of her pocket, waving to the both of them. "I'll see y'all at the party. Tim, later."

"Bye," he called out, watching her leave, closing the door behind her. He deflated like a balloon against the counter, whispering. "Thank God that's over."

"You guys left on a bad note, huh?"

He didn't want to talk about Tyra with Lyla. It felt weird. He shrugged, whispering. "She helped me after jail…we kind of…kind of talked about…one day, maybe, but…nothing definite. Saw her a couple times after, but…yeah she went to California." After she flat out told him that it wasn't going to happen, she just didn't want to hurt him when he was already hurt. It would be nice, but no, not for her.

Besides, he'd kind of figured that out on his own, only he wasn't as direct about it with her, which he knew set her off. So yeah, they kind of had a fight and they hadn't talked since she moved to Los Angeles.

He glanced down at Lyla, shrugging. "You do look cute."

"Don't change the subject." Lyla walked around him, over to the built-in desk area near the hall back to the stairs. She rifled through some papers, pausing. "Hey."

"Hey what?"

"This…" Lyla unfolded a piece of paper, turning it around and holding it up, smiling wide. "You passed your test for HVAC certification?"

He finished the glass of green juice. "Yeah."

"You didn't want to tell me? I didn't even know you'd taken it yet!"

It wasn't that big of a deal. He shrugged. "Took it last week."

"Tim! Congratulations!"

"Not that big of a deal." It was just a certification. He'd get his license from the state of Texas, to go with his general contracting stuff. It was just formality. Made it easier with work. He shrugged, glancing down at the counter.

"Wow. I just…this is really great." She smiled again, even wider. Genuinely happy.

It was nice, to have someone happy for him, he thought, smiling again. Like when he got into college. Lyla could have danced to the moon and back, she was so happy for him. He'd forgotten what that was like.

She'd always kind of been like that with him. Right now you'd have thought she'd passed the test, she was so happy, jumping in place, her smile taking up her entire face.

Lyla set the papers down, walking towards him. "You know, I'm so happy for you, that maybe we can get in a workout, since I know that's where you were going with the 'you look cute' comment."

"I can't just say you look cute?" he teased, his arms around her, smiling before he dropped a kiss to her lips. Although she was right. He smiled against her, whispering. "Because you are really cute."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she mumbled, smiling. "But thanks."

They both laughed, stumbling towards the living room, where she fell backwards onto the couch, her arms and legs tangling around him. He was about to just dump her on the floor to make this easier, when the front door opened.

"Tim! It's Sophie!"

Ah, crap. He jumped off of Lyla, leaning into the hall, smiling at his little sister. It was like when he saw Stevie and the twins. This warm, happy feeling just kind of lit up in his chest.

She was five; she didn't understand anything else that was going on; he felt he kind of owed it to her to at least be a friend. Even if he wasn't sure what being a big brother to someone this little entailed. "Hey you," he called, grabbing her under her arms and swinging her into his, setting her on his forearm, looking at her outfit that almost seemed to match Lyla's. "You look pretty today."

"Thank you," Sophie giggled, her hair pulled into braided pigtails falling over her shoulders. She held out her little American flag, smiling at him. "This is mine. You can have one too, I'll share."

"Well thanks, so where's your mom?" My mom, a little voice reminded him. He walked around the corner, seeing Anne stepping into the house. Good God, she looked even thinner.

But she was supposed to be better; she said she was better.

Anne smiled at him. "Hi Tim."

He walked over, leaning down and kissing her cheek. "Hey…Mom." He tested it on his tongue; it sounded different. "How was the drive?"

"It was okay." Anne was immaculate, like usual. He remembered the woman who was always a mess, but for some reason she seemed to always dress to the nines. He wondered why. Maybe it was just a woman thing.

Lyla walked around the corner, after composing herself from their little thing on the couch. "Hello Anne," she greeted her with a kiss to the cheek, smiling at Sophie. "Hey there you, come on I got you something fun."

Sophie slid out of his arms, walking with Lyla into the back room, where he knew Lyla had gone and bought a few little crowns and cheap plastic necklaces and bracelets with stars and sparkles all over them. He squared off against his mother, smiling at her. "How are you? You seem…okay."

"I have a headache," Anne whispered, closing her eyes briefly. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "But don't worry, I…I'll still come to the party."

"Good, good." He dropped his gaze to his feet, lifting his eyes again, whispering. "Maybe Sophie could stay the night, tonight, you know, instead of you guys driving back? I have the guest room ready now." That was a project that Lyla had actually completed for him, to his surprise. She'd even painted and gotten linens and everything.

Anne nodded, whispering. "I'll think about it. We should get going, huh? Get this over with."

You don't have to do this, he didn't say, but he thought. This was the whole family and it was their friends and everything. He hated crap like this as much as the next person, but if Anne wanted to be part of it all, she had to suck it up too and deal with the stigma that was going to come with it.

Not that he thought that was fair. He planned to make sure if anyone said anything to her that they knew he wouldn't deal with it.

They gathered everything together, climbing into her sedan and his truck. Lyla drove with Anne, while he had Sophie in the truck, his little sister bouncing in her seat, straining against the seatbelt, trying to look out at the field. "This is very big," she announced.

"It is pretty big, huh?"

"Very. Ooh! Horses!"

He smiled, reaching over to tug on one of her braids, pointing. "There's an oil rig, look, it's moving."

"Wow," she whispered, leaning against him, watching, her little head on his shoulder. She lifted her face up to his, whispering. "You're my brother."

"Yeah."

She nodded, not saying anything. "My mommy is your mommy."

He glanced down at her, nodding again. Where was this coming from? Maybe she was just confirming. It was probably weird for her to be coming out to Dillon and him going to Austin and not knowing why. Just that some guy was showing up and taking her to get dinner and play with her and then just tell her that it's because they were siblings.

Tim cleared his throat. "Yup. My mom is your mom."

"And Billy is my brother."

"Yes, Billy is also your brother. Billy is my brother too."

"And Lyla is my sister."

He shook his head. "Nope. She's not. Lyla is…" He bit his lip. How do you explain this to a kid? What the hell, might as well put it in little girl terms. He sighed, whispering. "Lyla is my girlfriend."

That didn't sound so bad. Even if it was a total lie.

"Oooh, like boyfriend and girlfriend like you guys kiss?" Sophie giggled, making kissing noises. She made a face. "That's gross."

"One day you won't think its gross."

"Yes I will."

"Nah, you won't." He leaned over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're going to have fun at the party. There will be lots of kids there."

Sophie nodded, whispering again. "But you're my brother. Like my big brother. Can I tell you whatever I want?"

"Sure."

"Okay." Sophie sighed, whispering. "Is Mommy sick? She sounds sick. She cries sometimes and she sleeps a lot."

Aw, damnit. Maybe he should have told her she couldn't tell him whatever she wanted. Tim didn't think he was the right person to have this conversation, but…guess it had to be done. He nodded, whispering. "Yeah Sophie. Mom is sick." Mom.

Sophie looked up at him, breathing. "Is she gonna' get better?"

Tim's breath caught in his throat; how did you tell a little kid that? Didn't they live in a world where everyone lived forever? He pulled his truck up on the curb next to the house, sighing. "Um…"

"We're here!" Sophie ignored him, forgetting her question and not waiting for an answer, trying to open the door and get her seatbelt off. He got out, helping her to the ground, when suddenly her hand just clutched in his, not letting go.

He looked up at the ranch-style house and then back down to her, seeing the panic in her eyes. He smiled, kneeling down to her height, whispering. "Hey Sophie, you scared?"

Sophie shook her head quickly. "No."

Yes, you are, but that's okay, because hell, I'm scared too. Tim leaned in, whispering, so only they could hear. "It's okay to be scared. It's a bunch of new people. Here, hold onto my hand and when you're not scared anymore, you can let go." He stood, still holding her hand, which she didn't let go.

Good, he didn't want to let go either, surprisingly.

Tim walked with her up to the house, opening the door and stepping into the party, calling out that the guests of honor had arrived. Mindy told him to shut up, but she saw Sophie, smiling and clapping her hands, running around to give her a hug and kiss, to Sophie's surprise.

He caught Becky's gaze, seeing the annoyed look and then shrugged, gesturing to Sophie. Becky seemed torn between trying to prove a point to him and wanting to see Sophie, but he let her think on that as he brought Sophie over to Tyra, gesturing to her. "Tyra, Sophie, Sophie, this is Tyra. She's a friend."

"Hi," Sophie whispered, waving at Tyra from behind his knees.

Tyra chuckled, lifting her eyebrow. "She looks just like you. How creepy is that?" She leaned forward, offering her hand. "Hi Sophie. I'm your brother's friend, I'm Tyra."

"Hi," she repeated. She pointed to Tim, breathing. "This is my big brother."

"I know, I bet he's a cool big brother, too, huh?"

Sophie nodded quickly, whispering. "He can drive. That's cool."

He laughed, picking her up, holding her on his arm. "I'm glad you think that's cool because it's about the only thing I can do." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anne walk up into the house, Lyla behind her.

Billy went over to Anne, saying a few words with her. Tim watched Anne give him a hug and Billy return it. They let go, Billy helping her into the house, his arm on hers, beginning to introduce her to people.

It was hard, but…it was getting easier.

He wondered how hard this was for Anne. Must have been pretty tough, it was the house she lived in and the house she left. He turned away from her, carrying Sophie outside to the back, where the pool had been cleaned and fixed up, all the kids playing. Sophie looked a little jealous that they were swimming and she wasn't, so Tim figured later he'd hook her up with a bathing suit, maybe just a t-shirt and her jeans, teach her redneck swimming that way.

He said hello to people he hadn't seen in awhile, holding Sophie the entire time, her head on his shoulder. Some people thought it was his daughter, until he said that she was his sister.

It got surprised looks, but then they'd meet his mother and the questions would start or in some cases, not even get asked.

It was easier than he thought it would be.

The entire time though, he kept hold of Sophie, needing his little sister almost as much as she seemed to need her big brother.


	18. It's Time

**A/N: **I'm going to put a big fat tearjerker warning on Chapters 18-20. So you've been warned.

* * *

**Chapter 18: 'It's Time'**

Lyla was pretty sure Tim didn't think anyone was watching when he was around Sophie. She made sure to get a courtside view of it though. She was standing off from the side of the party, holding a beer, watching as her dad and Angela got all gooey with each other, which just made her stomach drop and then seeing Tim and Sophie together with Billy, the little girl sitting on Tim's knees, telling people a story about something; even Billy was laughing.

He was very good with her; he liked kids, she knew he found them annoying from time to time, but he liked them and he was good with them.

She sipped her beer, glancing out of the corner of her eye as Tyra approached her. Oh boy, this would be interesting. "Garrity," Tyra greeted her. Whereas Garrity was an endearment from Tim, from Tyra, it was meant to annoy her. She'd just started to see it as an endearment from Tyra too.

"So how long do you think before we're stepsisters?" Tyra asked, glancing at Angela and Buddy.

"Ew."

"I know, right? It's disgusting, but I hate admitting it, Mom does seem happy with him. Maybe when he wasn't cheating on his wife with her she sees a future." Tyra glanced down at her look. "Sorry."

Thank you. Just because it was years ago didn't make the hurt and knowledge any less painful when it was brought up. She took another sip of her beer. "So you met Sophie, huh?"

"Yeah, she's a cutie. So is Anne sick or something?"

Lyla shook her head, whispering. "That's up to Tim and Anne to tell people."

"I'll take that as a yes." Tyra waited a second, her voice dropping so just the two of them could hear. "Is Tim going to take care of Sophie after she dies?"

I don't know, she thought, looking over at Tim, who was throwing Sophie into the air, spinning her around. The little girl was obviously in love with him. He obviously loved her, even if it had just been a little over a month since he'd met her. She was surprised at how taken he'd become with the girl, but…maybe he saw something of himself in Sophie.

A little girl who was about to become an orphan; a father who had all but abandoned her and a mother who was planning on leaving; although this time it was through no fault of her own.

She hoped that his heart wouldn't be broken when Anne died, even though she knew it would be rough on him. He kept insisting that she was fine.

"I don't know," she answered. She took a sip of beer again, choosing the motion to think about her next answer. "Anne has her going to a family friend, to be taken care of."

"Because I mean, Tim really can't handle his own life, let alone becoming a guardian of a five-year old. Billy and Mindy have too much on their own too. Seems a bit much."

Maybe they could do it together, Lyla thought, glancing at Billy, who was teasing Stevie and Sophie, the little girl and her 'nephew', which she supposed was accurate, laughing at something he said to them. Billy was a good dad; she was surprised.

"What up baby sis? Garrity, hello." Mindy walked over, holding onto a twin, joining them. She glanced at where they were following. "Ah yes, Tim the big brother. I've gotten many people asking me today what's up with that. His mom is really nice too."

"Yeah, she's nice but she still left him," Tyra piped up.

Lyla shook her head, whispering. "It doesn't excuse her behavior, but…she had reasons." She found Anne talking with Buddy, the two of them smiling about something. She hoped he'd stay away from Anne; that would just be creepy beyond belief for her.

"So when do you plan on leaving Garrity?"

She looked up, shrugging at Mindy's question. "Soon."

"Seems like you're sticking around a bit longer than 'soon.'"

Lyla ignored Mindy's question, focusing on Anne, who was looking quite pale, holding a bottle of water. Her fingers were shaking. She set down her beer, following Anne into the house and to the bathroom, waiting a second after she closed the door.

She approached it, touching the doorknob. Her brow furrowed and she reached to knock on the door, calling softly. "Anne, it's Lyla. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm…I'm fine…"

No, you're not fine. Lyla turned the doorknob, stepping in, seeing Anne leaning over the sink, almost ready to faint. She reached for Anne, feeling that her pulse was positively racing. "Anne, oh my God, you're burning up…"

"I'm fine," Anne whispered, closing her eyes and trying to straighten up, but she just stumbled on her feet, shaking her head, almost begging. "Please Lyla, don't…don't tell…"

"Don't tell me what?" Tim emerged in the doorway. He took one look at Anne, shaking his head, reaching for her. "Come on."

"No, I'm…" Anne closed her eyes, about to say she was fine, before she was slumping backwards, Lyla grabbing her before she fell to the tile floor and hurt herself further, lowering her back onto the floor against her chest, shouting for Tim to call 911.

He didn't think, but pushed by her, lifting Anne up into his arms, carrying her out of the house.

Lyla ran into Billy as she left the bathroom, gripping his shoulders, his eyes wide, watching Tim carrying Anne out to his truck. "We're going to take her to the hospital. Keep Sophie from worrying, don't tell her, just…just keep here here, I'll go with him."

"Lyla."

She turned, whispering; Billy's eyes were wide, almost scared. "Yeah?"

"She…" He shook his head, whispering. "She's only been back a month, but…make sure he's okay."

She smiled, whispering, leaning in to give him a quick hug. "Always, Billy." She let go, running out to the truck and climbing in with him, feeling Anne's pulse again. It was racing, but she was passed out.

Her blood pressure probably crashed, she thought, not saying anything as Tim hit the accelerator, spinning the truck off the street and towards the hospital. Lyla fumbled with her phone, calling Dillon Regional, telling them that they were on their way in with a woman with cancer who just passed out.

Anne's breathing was almost nonexistent, just wheezy, but Lyla tried not to focus on that. Just the fact that she was still alive, she was still breathing and still had a pulse. Tim said nothing, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes focused on the road.

"It'll be okay Tim," she whispered.

He said nothing, just driving maniacally to the hospital.

Please live, she begged, holding Anne against her chest. Please, please, please…he's so happy now. He's just…he's just happy. Happy with Sophie…even happy with her. If you die now, he's going to just crawl back into a hole.

Crawl back into a hole and Lyla wasn't sure she'd be able to get him out.

They arrived at the hospital, Tim carrying her in, and a guerney was already waiting, a nurse telling him they'd come find him once they took care of her, wheeling her back into a room. He stood in the center of the hall, watching. Lyla wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. "It'll be okay Tim," she repeated, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek, whispering into his ear. "It'll be okay. Come on, let's go sit down."

He shook his head, whispering. "I thought she was fine."

Tim she has cancer, she thought, giving him a hug, before turning and walking with him towards a waiting area. He sat beside her, whispering again, almost to himself. "I thought she was fine. She seemed fine."

Lyla shook her head, breathing. "No Tim. She wasn't fine."

He turned his head, his eyes wavering with tears. "She's finally back."

I know baby, I know, Lyla thought, nodding, trying not to cry herself. She reached her hand around to the back of his neck, stroking at his hair, her forehead falling to his shoulder, whispering. "I know."

He leaned against her, not saying anything, but he shook his head, a few minutes later, whispering. "I don't want her to die."

And that's what made it so much worse, Lyla thought, nodding in agreement. She wrapped her arms around him completely, breathing into his ear. "They'll work on her, Tim. It'll be fine."

I sure hope it will be fine, Lyla thought, kissing his cheek. She just held him, not saying what was probably running through his mind.

Anne wasn't going to make it.

About an hour and a half later, the sun was beginning to set and Lyla could hear fireworks in the distance, probably at the church Fourth of July event, just down the road. She had Tim asleep against her shoulder, dozing lightly. She glanced up, seeing a doctor approaching her.

"Tim," she whispered, lightly pushing at him. She stood, with him slowly getting up behind her. "Anne McConnell?" she asked, seeing the doctor approach them closer. "Is she alright?"

The doctor, whose nametag said he was Dr. Rivers, took a deep breath, glancing between the both of them. "Are you family?"

"I'm her son," Tim whispered, his hands going to his hips. "What's…what's wrong with her?"

"Your mother's cancer is significantly advanced," Dr. Rivers said, shaking his head. "Her blood pressure crashed at the same time her heart rate skyrocketed. Is she on any medication to manage this cancer? She told us she denied further treatment."

Tim shook his head, whispering. "I don't know…I don't…don't think so…I just…" He turned around, not wanting to deal with it. Just like Lyla thought he might.

She stepped forward, whispering. "She's denied treatment. I imagine she also has a DNR, but I'm not sure. What can you do for her right now?"

"Well, we can manage her blood pressure and her heart rate, but she's having great trouble breathing. I would prefer to intubate, but as you said, she probably has a DNR, we're looking that up right now, and she said no to the tube when we pulled it out of the tray….we can put a device over her nose and mouth that pushes forced air into her lungs and nose, kind of like a high-powered oxygen mask, but…that's not going to help." Dr. Rivers shook his head, whispering. "I'm afraid, unless she wants to do life-saving measures…" He let it hang, holding it there.

Tim just turned in a circle, walking to the window. Lyla nodded, understanding. She thanked the doctor for his help, saying they'd be in to check on Anne momentarily. She waited for him to leave, turning and walking towards Tim.

"Listen to me," she said, gripping his shoulder, her voice firm. "Your mother…Tim she told you. She told you. It's happening now. It will happen. She's denied all treatment, it's aggressive, and her body is giving out. You need to…you need to focus now."

She turned his face towards her, whispering, her eyes wide. "Focus on me. When it gets hard, when you don't want to deal with it, you focus on my face, okay? I'm right here. I'm…I'm going to be here. Now…now you have a little sister Tim. You can't do what you did with Jason or…or with other people. You…you have to be strong."

The words caught in her throat, but she pushed forward, almost choking them out. "This is for your mother, okay? Show her that you…that you want to be there for her, okay? I think she's scared too."

Tim's face was impassive. He glanced from her eyes, returning to the window. He shook his head, barely breathing. "She just came back to die in front of me."

"And she will die knowing that her son, who she just left, was there by her side." Rise up, she thought, holding his hand tight in hers. Her voice cracked. "Tim, I think the best thing you can do right now is just be at her side…it's going to hurt. It's going to hurt so much, because you're right, she just came back and now she's going to leave, but…but if you're strong, you might not regret if you just left her."

"And," she continued, smiling a little. "Sophie will need her big brother, right? You don't want her to be like you and Billy, right?"

"No."

"Good. Good, come on now. Let's…let's go…maybe, maybe we can take her home."

Take her home, she thought, hoping he got the hint.

Tim nodded, echoing that sentiment. "I'll take her home."

A few days later, they checked Anne out of the hospital, with the portable oxygen tank, and Tim took her back to his house, setting her up in the living room, where she could look outside, but she barely woke up as he moved her around, talking to her about the view in the morning.

Lyla waited, until she could call Billy, waiting for Tim to settle down next to Anne, at her beside, just watching her. She slipped into the kitchen, calling Billy. She blinked through tears, her voice thick when she spoke.

"Billy. You might want to keep Sophie there until…until we're ready, but…"

She sighed, whispering what the doctor told them. The words no one wanted to hear. She could even see him dreading it.

"It's time."


	19. Forgiveness and Goodbyes

**A/N:**This is a relatively short chapter, given what transpires in it, but I didn't want to prolong it anymore than necessary. The next chapter is significantly longer. Thanks for the reviews and again, tearjerker warning is still in effect.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Forgiveness and Goodbyes**

I shouldn't have to do this.

I shouldn't have to sit here and watch my mom die in front of me, Tim thought, sitting beside the bed in the guest room upstairs.

He hadn't slept; it was impossible to sleep now.

About two weeks had passed since they brought her home from the hospital. Her breathing had gotten worse; she'd been in and out of consciousness. It seemed like even when she was conscious, she just wasn't really breathing. Her skin had turned a kind of sickly yellow; the doctor told them that was her liver.

Her kidneys had basically shut down too, according to the doctor. Lyla had paid someone to come out to the house, to just give one last report on it all, to make sure there was nothing they could do, beyond giving her something that Lyla called 'life saving measures.'

Lyla explained to him that meant CPR or putting an oxygen tube down her throat to help her breathe. She didn't want it, so they couldn't do it, even if it meant saving her life.

"It shouldn't be this way," he whispered, leaning forward over his knees, watching Anne sleep. He didn't know what to do. He folded his hands in front of his lips, staring at her, watching her chest rise and fall, but barely.

I didn't even think of you for ten years. You come back into my life for all of…two months and now you're gone. Now I'm stuck with a five-year old little sister, with…with this sick feeling in my stomach because….

"You're my mom," he whispered.

Anne turned her head on the pillow, her eyes flickering open. "Timmy," she smiled, her fingers reaching for his. He moved closer to the bed, eventually getting up and sitting on the edge. She squeezed his hand, tears wavering in her eyes. "I am so sorry…I should have just…left you be."

He shook his head quickly, whispering. "No, no…Mom…"

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Her breathing came in a choke, her eyes closing, coughing. She shook her head again. "I am so sorry Timmy. I love you so much, I'm so sorry…"

She repeated it several times, over and over, and he couldn't take it anymore, leaning forward, shaking his head again, whispering. "No Mom, it's…no. Stop it. Stop!"

I can't keep hearing these things, he thought, looking into her eyes. He felt everything just kind of twisting inside of him. All these feelings about…kind of about everything. About her returning and about Sophie and about…about how he felt as a kid and how he felt now about her.

He was numb when she returned. Had no idea if he should be happy, mad, or sad about it all…just empty inside.

Now though…that was over a month ago and…and it felt like…he was…he felt that sick, empty feeling in his stomach but for a different reason. I don't want you to go. You're back. You're back in my life now; I have a mother.

I have a mom.

I want a mom.

You're my mom.

And…and the woman dying in front of him wasn't the one who left him; he knew that. He was just sorry that it took so long for him to meet her. For her to change and for cancer to bring her back to him.

Now he had to say goodbye.

I hate saying goodbye, I'm not very good at it, he thought, leaning over her, whispering. "Mom…it's okay."

"I loved you," she whispered, her voice faint. "And I'm…I'm sorry."

"I know, I know you are." He kissed her forehead, whispering. "Hang on, just hang on."

About an hour later, after they had let Sophie say goodbye, the little girl not understanding, and after Billy had gone in and closed the door to say his piece, Tim went back upstairs, ignoring Lyla standing at the base of the stairs, waiting until Billy left the room, his brother not meeting his eyes, going back downstairs. He went into the bedroom, sitting back at the edge of the bed.

Anne's eyes were closed, her breathing nothing but rattles. She turned her head, staring at him for a second, until she smiled, slow. He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand.

The words…they meant something to him.

Right now he was sure he meant them, otherwise he wouldn't say them.

"Mom," he said, shaking his head slightly, his voice thick. "I…" He leaned forward, so she could hear him, whispering. "I am…I…" Say it Tim. Just say it. "It's okay. It's okay…I…I forgive you."

There.

"I forgive you for leaving," he breathed.

His heart kind of fluttered; his shoulders felt lighter, and he smiled, nodding at her, whispering again. "I forgive you."

Anne's eyes widened and she closed them, tears leaking out the corners, her head turning on the pillow. She took another breath, as best as she could, coughing for a few minutes. She stilled, her eyes flickering open again. "I love you," she whispered.

I love you too. He wrapped his fingers around her thin, bony ones, whispering. "It's okay." Remember when I was little and you'd tell me things got better? When he was upset about something, about football or about school or about Billy calling him 'squirt' because he was the smallest in the class…she just told him things got better.

Those good times, at least, when she was sober and sane and his dad wasn't around. Until the day came when…when she wasn't anymore.

He didn't want to think of those days, not right now. Not after all she'd done to show she'd changed. She didn't even want his forgiveness.

You have it, he thought, watching her. He closed his eyes, feeling the door open. Billy came up to sit beside him. "It'll get better," Billy whispered, glancing at him. "Isn't that what she said?"

He nodded, squeezing Anne's hand. His mother seemed to smile in her sleep, turning her head on the pillow.

For a few hours, it just seemed like the two of them sat there, just waiting.

Until Tim felt her hand go limp in his, very slowly. For a second he wasn't sure it did or not. Billy leaned over her, listening to her breathing, shaking his head slightly, his voice cracking. "It's stopped."

He got up from the bed, walking over to the window. He made sure it was open, so the sun could come inside. So she could see the view. It was dark now.

Tim left the room, going downstairs and out onto the front porch, leaning against the railing, trying to breath, but he found it was difficult. He gasped, leaning back, turning, just in time to see Lyla walking out onto the porch. "She's gone," he laughed, taking another sharp breath. "She's gone!"

Lyla didn't say anything, grabbing his shoulders when he reached for her, his face burying into her shoulder.

He'd only cried a few times in his life.

When Street got hurt, those few times. When Street left. When Lyla left, for good. When his father finally showed his true colors.

Oddly, he hadn't cried when Anne left, because he wasn't sure what happened, other than she was there and then she wasn't. Now it was…now it was kind of the same. She was there and then…then she wasn't.

He stood with Lyla for what seemed like forever. By the time he lifted his face from her shoulder, it was pitch black outside and Billy had already called an ambulance. Where was Sophie? He didn't know.

Lyla read his mind, whispering. "Mindy took her out the back, took her home. She didn't want her here, she was asleep anyway…they'll keep her there, for all this…everything."

I don't even know where she wanted to be buried.

"I'll help you," Lyla whispered, kissing his cheek, her arms returning to his shoulders. She swayed with him, from side to side, whispering. "I'll help you, don't worry."

Don't worry.

He walked away from the house, going to sit in the grass at the edge of the hill sloping towards a thicket of trees, looking at the moon hovering over the horizon. Lyla came up to sit beside him.

So this was what it was like, when your parent died.

This empty…lost feeling.

He leaned against her, glad she was there, and his eyes closing, just taking a few breaths. What about Sophie now? What about her house? Her things? There was way too much to think about right now. His mind was racing, but his body wasn't moving.

It was a curious feeling.

Mom's gone, he repeated in his head. Mom is really gone this time. She didn't run off. She didn't abandon me. She just died.

"Have you ever felt…" He shook his head, whispering, his eyes fixated on a tree on the horizon. He shrugged, breathing. "Completely useless?"

"Sometimes."

"She's really gone. She came back and now she's gone…" He shook his head, frowning. "And I just…" He pushed the heel of his palm into his chest, taking a few heaving, shaky breaths. "It really hurts."

"I know. You loved her."

How can you love someone who left you? He glanced down at her, seeing her face haloed by the glowing moonlight. Her eyes were soft and smile warm. How can you love someone who left you, he thought again. Depends on the reasons, he supposed. He wasn't sure what to believe.

Now I have Sophie to think about.

Sophie.

He looked at the house and then back down to Lyla. "I need to see Sophie."

"Okay."

They left the house, driving towards the old house, where he went up into it without asking, finding Sophie in the backyard with the other kids, playing with some Lego toys. He knelt down, smiling at her, whispering. "You want to come with me tonight?"

Sophie nodded, her arms going around his neck, letting him lift her into his arms. He carried her out to the front yard, sitting with her on the stoop, giving her a few minutes before he just packed her up and moved again. He glanced down at the little girl, who was sitting on her hands, her toes digging into the concrete.

She looked away, until she lifted her face to his. "Mindy says that Mommy went to Heaven."

"Yeah."

"I can't see her anymore."

"No."

She nodded. He could see the same expression on her face that he caught on his, when he got out of the truck a few minutes before. In a weird way, she was processing it, but she was shutting down. Kind of like me, he guessed. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her start to cry, confused, lost, and scared.

Just like me.

"Where am I going to live?" Sophie asked, wiping at her eyes and nose. She looked up at him, her face bright pink and eyes wet. She hiccuped. "Where will I sleep?"

Tim said the words before he realized he was even saying them.

"You can live with me."

She sniffed again. "Really?"

He nodded; he'd regret saying those later. He felt his palms go a little damp and his heartbeat quicken. What the hell Riggins? You can't live with a five-year old! You can barely live with yourself.

Oh well, he supposed, wrapping his little sister back into his arms.

"You can live with me," he repeated.


	20. Love

**Chapter 20: Love**

The house was sold in Austin and the proceeds from sale of furniture and everything else all went to a fund for Sophie's college. Lyla helped pack things up; keeping things Sophie might want. Tim didn't open the box that she'd told him he needed to save, with all the newspaper clippings.

He was pretty numb, so was Billy. Mindy was doing all she could with Sophie, but hell, she had three kids. Tyra was still around, but Lyla knew that she had to leave soon too.

It had been about two weeks since Anne died; she had to move to Austin.

Classes started in two weeks.

Today, Lyla was sitting on the back porch at Tim's, watching him with Sophie, and Tyra sitting beside her. Anne's friend, who was supposed to watch Sophie, had said they could keep her as long as possible, while she got her room ready and did what Anne requested in all the legal, custody stuff…some lawyer was working on it too, but Mindy was mostly trying to work that end of things.

Right now Billy and Tim were pretty much just keeping Sophie going between the both of their houses.

And Tim had to get back to work too; Lyla knew he'd taken a leave of absence from the construction site. He was still pulling salary, because he worked for the company and not the individual project, but he had to think about getting back.

They all had to start moving on with their lives.

Lyla poured herself another glass of tea, glancing at Tyra, who hadn't said much in the last few weeks. "When are you leaving?"

"My flight leaves in two days, but…I don't know." Tyra shook her hand through her hair, letting her fingers fall down to her shoulder, her eyes focused on the Riggins brothers out in the field, walking around with Sophie, who was searching for 'buried treasure', she said.

She was suddenly on a pirate kick, obsessing over treasure, pirates, and ships. Lyla was almost 100% positive it was some sort of psychological reaction to Anne's death; Tyra had all but confirmed it. "Textbook," she'd said the other day, when Lyla asked. "She's coping by believing she's in a fantasy world. It's okay for now."

Tyra leaned over her knees, smiling slightly, her shoulder lifting. "I mean, he seems okay…Mindy said Billy's trying as best he can, but…they have all the boys in one room and Sophie in another…it's too small there for all of them…" She glanced sideways, whispering. "I don't know if Tim realizes he just lost the mother he'd wanted so much."

I don't know if he realizes it either; hell, I don't even think he realizes that he wanted a mother. Not until Anne showed up, until he had her back in his life. Someone who was always supposed to be there, reappearing, only to leave again.

Lyla knew he'd forgiven her; that didn't mean he was over her.

"How is he doing, though, I mean…I only see one side of it."

I don't know, he just…Lyla had been watching him every night for the last two weeks; she barely slept anymore, concerned about him. He'd had nightmares. At least three, where he woke up screaming or crying or just didn't wake up at all, shaking and sweating to death until she finally had to pull him out of it.

Which was far worse, because he almost seemed mad at her, like he deserved them or something.

She shrugged, whispering. "I think he's in denial."

"Seems like he would be. He gets stuck in gear or something. Usually someone has to push him out of it…took me a few days last time, after jail…" Tyra twisted a bracelet around on her wrist, her voice faraway. "That was a long time ago…even if it was only two years ago…"

This was getting into uncomfortable territory, because Lyla was very aware of what happened between Tim and Tyra after he got out of jail. She also knew about what happened between them before she arrived back in Dillon, after Tyra's graduation from UT and move to California.

And like most things with Tim, she didn't ask and she didn't pry any further than what he was willing to give her. So there were still gaps; gaps she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She fisted her fingers into her knees, focusing on Tim, who was standing off in the grass, looking lost, while Billy walked around with Sophie, holding her hand and letting her talk. Tyra continued to speak, almost whispering. "He just needed someone to refocus him, Lyla. Get him back on the right track…I mean, he was a mess, he was talking about leaving Dillon and going to Alaska, I didn't know what to do…" Tyra immediately grew defensive, even though Lyla said nothing. "And it wasn't like he was yours or anything…besides, it was nice to feel someone care about you."

She arched an eyebrow, her lip quirking upwards, glancing at Tyra, who was staring at her. "Do you think I'm mad about you guys? I'm not. Guess I'm trying to understand it. I thought you wanted out."

"I do. That's why when he mentioned us ending up together at some point…I didn't want to hurt him. He was just…he needed someone and he was turning me into his…his you or something. I can't be that, I mean, I had to get out of here…." Tyra chuckled, nibbling on her thumbnail, leaning back in the chair, whispering. "And so I did and I think he felt…felt like I left him because of him, but…that wasn't it at all. Believe me, if I could stay here, that'd be easier, but I can't. I just can't and no one in Dillon is going to keep me from leaving. Even if he's changed and all…I'd still be like my sister….raising a bunch of kids, not doing what I want to do, and married to a coach, so to speak."

And therein lies the difference between the two of us, Lyla thought, tapping her fingers on her knee. That life? It wasn't that bad to her. It kind of reminded her of Mrs. Taylor. Helping people, having a family, and working in something you loved, whether that was in a giant city or in a small town.

Then there were people like Tyra, who it just…it wasn't enough. They had to escape and do something different. Exciting. And Tyra knew it too. She smiled, whispering. "And you're really thinking about staying? Right?"

No. Not…medical school was two weeks away. She shook her head, breathing, glancing at Tyra. "No. I can't, I mean…I have UT…medical school…a life…"

"Yeah, but Lyla do you really want medical school? I'd think if you did, knowing you, you'd already be burying your nose in those books, memorizing every bone in the body or rhyming it up to some cheer."

I don't need Tyra Collette to tell me what to do with my life.

And how sad is it that she actually is?

She glanced at Tyra, whispering. "And what about you? You're still here, you've got school starting in two weeks."

"Yeah, but my sister is currently trying to raise four kids now. I'm actually helping. You're on Riggins watch."

Riggins Watch. Made it sound like she was keeping him from slitting his wrists. Actually that was pretty close to the truth. More like keeping him from drinking himself into an early grave. Or descending into a bottomless pit of self-pity and destruction.

Which he'd been trying to do, before she cut him off or before he stopped himself, because Sophie was in the house or something. She didn't know what he was going to do with Sophie; hell, she wished she could help them. Wished she could stick around, but Tyra was right.

She should be moving on with her life too.

"Hey Lyla?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know…I might love Tim, but he's never said it back to me." Tyra shrugged, pushing herself up from her chair, smiling over her shoulder, whispering. "For what its worth. I mean…I'm quite sure if you'd come back, it'd be no contest who he'd want. If that…makes you feel better about us."

"I really don't give it much thought." That was the God's honest truth. They were both adults here. With a very damaged man they both loved sitting between them who needed their help. At some point.

"Just so you know." Tyra turned around, walking down the steps, going towards Tim. They shared a few words, a hug, and a brief kiss on the cheek, until Tyra stepped away, returning to the porch. "Alright Garrity, I have to get going. Mindy is probably ready to lose her mind. I'll see you around, good luck in med school."

She took a few steps towards the house until she turned, smiling. "And hey, you know…between you and me…even if Tim and I did end up together…I mean…I know what he had with you and…well quite frankly I wasn't interested in being the one person he could have because the other one was off…living a life that I wanted in some other city."

Tyra lifted her eyebrow, whispering. "Medical school sounds nice, I mean…you are a smarty-pants, but…that's not you Lyla and maybe you can tell me to go to hell because I don't know you, but I think I know enough and I've seen enough to know that you don't want it. Don't do it if you don't want it, you know? Don't do it just to please someone else and make someone else happy. It's one of the reasons why I left Tim. It's not fair to yourself to do something that you're not even…not even doing for yourself but for someone else."

"And only you are going to be the one living your life," Tyra finished, shrugging her shoulders. She lifted her fingers, waving goodbye. "See you around."

Wow.

Lyla nodded, whispering goodbye. That was pretty intense of Tyra to say to her…she just…hell she had no idea what to think of Tyra. They'd probably never be friends, just…what was it her sister Tabby called them once? Frenemies.

They'd probably be 100 and still be tentatively walking around each other, unsure what to make of the other. God, she really hoped her dad didn't marry Angela. That would just push both her and Tyra over the edge.

Although maybe they'd finally team up and get something done. Break em' up.

It wasn't a bad thought.

Sophie waved at her from the grass. "Come play with us Lyla!"

She chuckled, getting up and going down to join them. Sophie would be okay; it would just take some time. They'd already had to deal with several temper tantrums and lots of questions. As well as a couple of hours of just Sophie crying, wanting Anne, and Tim having to try to explain to a five-year old in the middle of the night that that just wasn't possible.

In two weeks he'd grown up as much as Sophie had.

Lyla stepped beside him, her arms crossing, and her eyes focusing on Sophie, who had convinced Billy to join her on the dock to search for the treasure. "Tyra left…you guys going to stay in touch?"

"I don't know."

"Okay." That was fair. She cleared her throat, whispering. "I'm going to stay the night, if that's okay?"

"Suit yourself."

Sophie was with him tonight; she mostly just wanted to be there in case he had to deal with another tantrum. He was trying; really, really trying, but a twenty-three year old who worked two jobs around the clock, who was still building a house, and who just…who could barely care for himself properly had no business trying to raise a five-year old.

There was no way a court or a judge would ever give him custody. Not yet.

I don't know why I just thought that.

She closed her eyes, whispering. "When does…um, Anne's friend…when will she get Sophie? To take her back to Austin?"

"Friday."

Friday. That seemed so soon. Three days.

"Is she going to let you and Billy see her?"

Tim nodded, taking a step away from the slope of the hill, walking along the edge and down a little, towards the trees. He looked over his shoulder, calling out. "You know you can leave Lyla. I'm not going to kill myself or break or anything."

On the contrary, I think you might at least break.

"Well I'm not going to do that."

"Go away."

"Tim!" She grabbed hold of his arm, jerking him around to face her. Damnit, Tim, she wanted to scream. This was infuriating. She let go of his arm, throwing it towards him. He just stared at her, his eyes dull and lifeless. She closed her eyes, whispering. "Tim, your mother threw you a curveball, okay? She came back only to die, I know that that hurts. I know it's painful and that you want to just disappear and pretend it never happened, go back to how you were living before, before she even walked back into your life to apologize and to know you before she died and to bring Sophie into your life."

"But she did, okay?" Lyla continued, hoping that he was listening to her. He just stared, saying nothing. She swallowed hard, her eyes wavering with tears, and threw her hands in the air, crying. "You got know her as this different woman, even for a month, Tim, okay? Even for one month you had her in your life and I can tell that that meant something to you. What about Sophie, huh?"

"What about her?"

"Don't tell me that you want to go back to a life without her. You've known her for two months but you love that little girl, okay? I know you do and you can't lie to me, Tim. We have never lied to each other." Lyla swallowed hard, whispering, tears trickling down her face. "And I have been here for you and I will be here for you, because I love you and I will always be there, even if I'm not…" She took a deep breath, swallowing it and then smiling sadly. "Even if I'm not actually here."

Tim shoved his hands into his pockets, watching her for a brief moment. He shook his head, whispering. "You're just going to leave. You're going to leave in two weeks Garrity. I'm staying and I'm going to work and yeah, I love Sophie, okay? That what you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say it. I want you to acknowledge your mother's death."

"I have!" he snapped. He turned away from her, storming down the hill, towards the trees. Lyla had no idea where he thought he was going, there was nothing but field in front of him. It was getting dark, but the sun was still barely over the horizon, casting a rust-colored glow on the dry grass.

She followed after him, watching where she stepped and glad she'd thought to put on jeans and boots, praying that the snakes stayed hidden. "No Tim, I really don't think you have. I want you to say how you feel about her."

"You want me to say it? You're not my shrink!"

"No, do not do that to me!" she yelled, hurrying after him. She ran up to him, pushing at his shoulder, sobbing. "Don't you dare try to push me away!"

She grabbed his shoulder, jerking him around; Tim turned, stopping hard in his tracks. She almost crashed into him, but he grabbed her arm, his fingers curling around it when she lifted it to smack him, just to knock some sense into him. He lifted his eyes, whispering. "Don't do this?"

"I have stuck with you!" she yelled, her jaw clenched. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sobbed. "I have been with you from the moment she came back Tim, so please, please do not push me away."

Tim shook his head, whispering, his eyes closing. He opened them a moment later, lifting his eyebrows, whispering. "You want me to say what I feel about my mom?"

She nodded quickly. Why do you think I've been following you through all this? Why the hell do you think I'm yelling at you about this?

He leaned in, breathing. "I don't…I don't hate her and…." He chuckled, smiling wide. Almost maniacal. "And I hate that I don't hate her. Okay? How crazy is that, huh? I should, right? Should hate her. Like I should have hated my dad or Billy or even you, but I don't!"

Tim's fatal flaw, Lyla thought, shaking her head, whispering. "You loved her." Just like you loved your father, loved your brother, and loved me. He loved too deeply. All he wanted was a family and when each person in his family betrayed him, he just kept loving them.

She wanted to cry.

She leaned towards him, reaching for his face, whispering. "You loved her."

"No," he whispered, lowering his face to hers, and his eyes closing. He wrapped his arms around her, mumbling. "No."

Yes you did, you don't have to admit it just yet, but you will one day. She ran her hands over his back, and closed her eyes, just holding him. They stood like that until the sun went down. Bugs were going to start eating at them, so she pulled back, pushing his hair from his face and brushing her lips over his.

He kissed her lightly, his forehead touching hers. "You're going to leave."

"I am."

"Please don't go to med school, Lyla."

You can't ask me to stay again. She shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. "I can't, Tim, please don't do this…I can't stand it if you do this again."

He breathed against her lips, his eyes opening as she opened hers, the two of them just looking at each other for a second. He frowned slightly. "I'm not asking you to stay. I'm asking you not to go to med school, because I know you don't want it. You're doing it because you think your dad wants it. Because you think you have to do it, because you want to help people, but…you don't have to do it Lyla. No one cares if you don't want to help people…no one is going to judge you for it."

You don't have to do it.

She bit her lip hard, drawing blood, her eyebrows lifting. "Tim. Please don't do this."

He wrapped his arms back around her, whispering into her ear, his voice faraway. "I love my mom."

I know you do.

"I love Sophie."

And I know you love her too.

He pressed a kiss against her temple, whispering again. "And I love you."

Lyla closed her eyes, tears trickling out the corners. "I know," she said.

"I don't want you doing something you don't want."

But I do want it. It was just the emotions talking…she wanted medical school before she came back here. This place was just messing with her emotions…but she wanted it. Tim couldn't change her mind.

She closed her eyes, whispering. "I love you too."

They stood together in the grass; the sun fell completely over the horizon, but neither moved.

They were going to have to separate soon, she thought, her head on his shoulder as they just stood together. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. So for a little while, she just wanted to be here. With him.


	21. Daylight

**A/N:**There are four chapters left (maybe five, if I split one in half, but I don't think I can) and the last three are all in the future. It jumps five years, then five more years, and then two years. The last chapter is not Lyla or Tim's POV. This chapter the tearjerker warning is lifted :) Thank you for all the reviews and enjoy, especially as we're nearing the end of this monstrosity of a story.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Daylight**

It was time for her to go.

Tim sat up in bed, not moving, watching as she finished gathering up the last bit of clothing or whatever she'd left in his room. He glanced at the clock; Sophie was at Billy's for the weekend, she'd be coming over to spend a couple days with him, before he took her back to Austin, to stay with her…well he supposed that Anne's friend was like her foster mother.

Apparently she'd always wanted children and never had them; Sophie knew her very well and really liked her, so it wasn't a traumatic move, but…it was still pretty traumatic.

He leaned against the headboard, his eyes focusing on Lyla. He still had the night; she wasn't planning on heading to Austin until the morning. The moving truck at Buddy's was all packed…he said he'd help her move, but he couldn't take off work, not now after he'd gotten back.

She finished packing her bag, zipping it back up, turning around, looking at him. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing." He crossed his ankles, shrugging his shoulders, whispering. He glanced up beneath his hair, which was falling in his eyes. He smiled slightly. "I'm gonna' miss you."

Lyla quirked her lip, whispering. "I'm not going very far. Austin's only like four hours away."

Yeah, only four hours away. It would be too difficult. They knew this would be over when she went back to school. His eyes followed her as she walked around the bed, climbing in beside him. The two of them were fully dressed, sitting side-by-side, elbows touching.

It was really comfortable this way.

"If you need help with Sophie…" she whispered, trailing off. He nodded; it was going to be hard with that too. Although at this point he wasn't even sure if Sophie would notice, her life was changing so much anyway.

I think you're making a mistake. I think you shouldn't do this.

Just say it Tim.

No, she already decided. It was up to Lyla. There was no way he would ask her to stay again. She didn't want him to say it. Not that he would. Even if she wanted him to, deep down and was just lying about it to herself. The last time had been hard enough. They'd agreed in the beginning. No talking. Just friends.

He slipped down the headboard, his knees still lifted, and hands folded over his abdomen, staring up at the ceiling. There was a box from his mom's house that Lyla had told him to look through, when he was ready. It was sitting beneath his nightstand. He wondered…

"Can you get the box?"

Lyla glanced beneath the nightstand, her eyes lifting back to his, folding up another shirt of hers. "You sure?"

"I don't know. Can you get the box?" He was tired of overthinking things. He waited, until the bed sagged a little beneath him, the springs squeaking. He sat up, reaching for the box, taking off the lid.

Together, with her beside him, he sifted through the photos of him as a little kid; photos he'd never seen before in his life. The three of them, her, Billy, and him at the Alamo, when Billy got lost. At Padre Island, on the beach, when he was a baby. He stared at them all. It was easy to see when it started getting bad, because he no longer smiled. That was about kindergarten.

Some of them had his father; but otherwise Walt was pretty non-existent. Good God, for some reason I loved him, he thought, picking up one of them at the football field for one of Billy's games. They were never a happy family. He was surprised there were as many photos in here as there were. He shook his head, breathing. "I hope I never see that man again, but…with her…"

He felt that hole in his stomach kind of open up again; he missed her already. He picked up a picture of him and Lyla, taking for the newspaper, after they won the semifinals and went to state, the second time, during his senior year. She was staring up at him, grinning. The caption read 'Senior Tim Riggins and Lyla Garrity; Riggins going to state for second time in Panther career.'

Career. Funny how they said that. His lasted four years, some went longer. Look at Williams. In the NFL already and everything. Or what Street could have been.

And she followed it all; Anne made sure to keep tabs on it all, even from wherever she happened to be. You didn't need parents who didn't want to be parents, she'd told him, as a pithy excuse for her actions, even when she wasn't excusing herself, freely admitting she was wrong.

He sighed, dropping the picture back into the box. He reached deeper, finding thin envelope. "What's this?" he asked, glancing at Lyla.

"I don't know, I only…saw some of the pictures." Lyla reached in, removing a small pair of tennis shoes. For babies. She smiled, holding them up, whispering. "I'm assuming these are yours."

He took one of the booties, smiling a little. "I guess." How come she kept this? He guessed he'd never know. He opened the envelope; it was small, like a card. Something fell out from the card…he picked it up, holding the thin sheet of paper with black inkstains on it. Baby footprints.

Lyla took them, chuckling, while he glanced down at the card, frowning. It was shaky writing, but…he read it a couple times. It was from Anne. Not that long ago too. She wrote how sorry she was to leave him again, how she couldn't make it up…basically everything she'd told him on her deathbed. Protect Sophie, she'd requested, and make sure she doesn't forget me and think of me as a horrible person when she finds out what I did to you. Look at the box, see, I didn't forget you, as much as I wanted to forget...

I love you, she'd written and just signed it with an "A."

He set it back in the box, watching it for a few minutes. Tim fell backwards, hitting his head on the pillow. Lyla closed everything up and put it away. He sighed, whispering. "I don't want to talk about her anymore. Please. Not tonight. Not on the last night."

The last night with you, he thought briefly, glancing at her as she came back to the bed.

Lyla smiled, crawling onto the bed beside him, unmoving. She closed her eyes, whispering. "I love you." She rested her hand beside his, on his stomach. She hiccupped. "I think I've always loved you, even when…when I didn't think about you."

Same.

"I want you to be happy Tim. You're happy, aren't you?"

Yes. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, blinking every so often. It saved him from completely breaking down. He wanted her to stay so much. Especially after these couple of months. With Anne.

To live in the house with him; she could run the bar and he could do his contractor thing. They could bring Sophie, to stay with them, and maybe one day they could have kids or get married or something.

He shakily released a breath. "Thank you for…for what you did."

"What did I do Tim?"

"With my mom…thanks." He missed her; he was shocked at how much. How he barely knew the woman that he buried the other day, but he missed her. There was this ache in his chest.

And Lyla helped make that ache better.

This…this leaving…it was just making the ache worse.

It made it worse knowing she was doing something he didn't think she wanted. Something for whatever reason she thought other people wanted or expected of her. Damnit Garrity, I thought you were over that crap. You chose yourself, for once in your life, you didn't do what some guy wanted from you and now here you are again, doing the same thing…he wanted to scream at her to stop, to not go…take the damn job with the guy in Austin, go to New Orleans, do something fun and awesome and adventurous.

That's what Lyla Garrity was supposed to do.

Not stay with him and help raise his five-year old little sister he didn't know he had.

Lyla lay beside him, looking up at the ceiling, her hand on his arm. She frowned, whispering. "You painted that…two different shades of color."

"Shut up Garrity."

She smiled into his shoulder, whispering. "I can't wait to see this place finished."

He cocked his head, thinking about his mom for a moment. Anne didn't want children, but she got stuck with two of them. She stayed and was miserable; we were miserable. There were some good times, but we were miserable. Anne left and he and Billy had only each other.

Then she came back and it was just…he'd seen how much someone could change. Ten years later, she'd come back to his life and he found…how he still loved her like she hadn't left ten years before. It was still there, even if he didn't think it was…now she was gone and it was still there, sitting in his chest.

He lowered his hand from his chest, falling beside him; his fingers curled around Lyla's, holding for a moment. He smiled, his eyes on the two-toned paint color on his ceiling. "I think Garrity…if you want to go and be a doctor…you will go and be a doctor and…if you ever want…"

Just say it. He smiled, long and slow, whispering. "I don't think there is ever going to be a day, where I don't love you and where you don't have a place here." He turned his head on the pillow, smiling at her stunned expression.

"And I told you…if you come back, there's a place here. If you want to live anywhere else, I'll drive you there."

She reached her hand up, cupping his face, her brow wrinkling. Her eyes fell down to the bed and she sighed, fighting internally with something. Her head shifted on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling, at the stupid two-toned paint, and returned to his eyes.

Lyla sighed again, breathing. "You have everything you want, huh?"

Everything I want, yes. Whether that's you or not. He nodded. "Yeah, I do." He smiled, satisfied. He felt calm.

"And Anne…"

"Yeah. I'm okay with that."

And you know you believe me, he thought, smiling a little. His mother's return threw him a curveball, but…he had a family, whether she was alive in it or not. He had Billy, Mindy, and the boys. He had Becky and Luke, as annoying as she was with him. He had Tyra, to a certain extent.

And now he had Sophie.

Sophie, who would need his brother the way he needed Billy, when both their parents left. A mother who was gone and an absent father. He smiled sideways to her, whispering. "So we're really doing this, huh?"

She nodded, whispering. "Yeah. We are."

"I love you, you know….and I probably always will."

Lyla leaned against him, her nose brushing his, smiling. "I love you too."

One day, he thought idly. When she knew what she wanted and she'd seen the world and maybe one day, when he had everything he'd wanted (which he did, pretty much), they could be together. It wasn't that big of a pipe dream.

He smiled, feeling very calm. For maybe the first time in his life, when…when it wasn't getting turned upside down by some thing or another…he kissed her lightly, whispering. "I'll be here no matter what."

"And…if I never…"

Not waiting for her to finish, he replied, his voice clear. Understanding. "Then you never."

They lay across from each other for the remainder of the night, just talking. Every so many minutes, she'd bring up something from their past or about his mother and he'd answer as best he could, reminding her of some crazy thing she'd done at some point or another. Asking her about medical school. She asked him about what he was going to do now that he had his certifications. Told him to watch out for her dad while she was gone.

For the whole night, they just lay on the bed together or she got up and wandered around, poking through his things; they just talked. It was actually really nice, especially since he wasn't much of a talker. It got serious; she asked him if he ever thought he might get married.

He said not really. Didn't want to say there was only one person he might ever want to marry.

And then it got silly; he reminded her that she couldn't drink when she was at medical school, because she got silly and stupid. So they ended up fighting over how she was a closet lush, just never told anyone. It ended up in a pillow fight of sorts, both of them fighting on the floor.

Or at three in the morning, when she went into his closet and started modeling his clothes, all the while asking him about his plans for a business. "How can I answer questions about a business when you're standing there in nothing but my football jersey?" he demanded.

"When you run a business you'll need to focus," she'd just said, before she threw the jersey and him and put on one of his two dress shirts.

"You'll wrinkle it, take it off."

"Oh you want me to take it off?" Then she'd done an exaggerated striptease, which ended up with her tripping a few times, until they were both laughing like idiots on the floor, since she'd pushed him off the bed.

It continued like that, until the sun filtered into the room and he woke up with a start, not even realizing he was asleep, finding her next to him, completely dressed, her arms around him, not letting go.

It was so funny that he knew what he wanted.

And it was really funny that they could include her or not. He was fine with either scenario. Once upon a time ago he wouldn't have been.

Lyla shifted against him, her eyes flickering open, studying him. He smiled. "Morning," he whispered.

She returned the smile. "Morning."

Time to go.

They drove over to Buddy's, who was waiting impatiently, outside the moving truck, practically growling, but stopping when he saw the both of them. He sighed, shaking his head, accepting that for whatever reason he wasn't going to tear them apart. "Five minutes," he warned.

"Okay Daddy," she called over her shoulder, chuckling. She reached up to his face, her hand on his cheek. "I am so glad that I came back this summer…and I'm happy that you have all you want."

It wasn't like he wanted a whole lot.

But he knew what she was saying.

He wrapped his fingers around hers, lowering her hand. In his pocket, he had something for her. Something that he'd found, when they were cleaning out Anne's house. Everything…he wanted to get rid of it. Billy too. Just keep some stuff for Sophie's memory, but everything else could go.

What money she'd had left over, she'd split three ways between her children, and he now had a nice little pillow in his bank account for the rest of the house. In her jewelry box, he'd found an old locket she used to wear. He wondered if she stopped wearing it because it reminded her of the boys she'd left behind. He hadn't had time to ask.

Not that he had much time with her in the end anyway.

He opened her hand, dropping the locket into her palm, his fingers closing around it. It had never opened. It was just a small gold heart; no engravings, nothing…he was sure it probably cost about five bucks or something. It was just something he remembered his mom always had. Something she clearly thought was still important enough to keep, even after she left them.

Lyla's brow wrinkled, staring down at her folded hand. "Tim."

"Keep it," he whispered, smiling, his head resting against hers. You deserve something, for all you've done this summer. It felt a million years ago, when they couldn't even look at each other for all the awkwardness or that night when his mom came into the bar, terrified at the sight of him.

He sighed, shaking his head, and his voice steady. He felt very steady. "This was hers. She wore it all the time when I was a kid, I just…I want you to have it. She liked you. Told me you were a good girl…" He sighed, his breath a little shaky. Let go Riggins. Just let her go. "I love you Lyla Garrity."

She rose on her toes, kissing him, the locket still in her fingers.

It was slow, achingly slow it felt like, until she broke away first, her eyelashes fluttering. The last time, she'd been trying not to cry and he'd said goodbye. They'd both said goodbye.

This time, she wasn't crying, but smiling. She turned away from him, lifting her fingers and waving, walking towards her car.

He lifted his fingertips in a silent wave, watching as she got into her car, Buddy sharing a few words with her before he got into the moving truck. Tim stood off to the side, watching as they drove away.

The last time, Lyla hadn't really looked back. She'd looked at him, but she hadn't looked back.

This time, she turned her head completely, grinning at him before she disappeared down the street.

Good luck Garrity, he thought, his arms crossing over his chest. He waited a few minutes, until he left. He drove over to the house, going inside without bothering to knock, sneaking into his old bedroom, which was now Stevie and he guessed Sophie's room, the two of them on the set of bunk beds in the corner.

He knelt at Sophie's side, on the bottom bunk, lightly touching her shoulder. She jumped, her eyes widening but he lifted his finger to his lips. "We're sneaking away," he whispered.

"Oh," she giggled, her arms going around his neck, making sure to grab one of her stuffed animals when he lifted her up, carrying her out of the house and to the truck. "Where are we going?" she asked, when he put her into the front seat, making sure her seatbelt was buckled.

"Somewhere special."

They drove through the silent town to his house, but he kept driving past it and past the pond, finally stopping at one of the treelines, where the sun broke through and just blanketed everything in yellow. It made it look like gold. It was a nice, cool morning, and he wanted her to see this.

Tim picked her up, walking around to the hood of the truck, setting her up on top, before he climbed up beside her, looking out at the land. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, whispering. "You're going to be okay Sophie. I promise, when…when I finish my house and everything, you can come live with me."

"Not yet?"

He shook his head, whispering. "No, not yet. Just…soon, I promise."

"You promise?"

"I never break my promises." He kissed the top of her head, hugging her against him.

"Where's Lyla?"

He smiled, glancing down at her, taking a second. Lyla was waiting. He smiled down at her, seeing her eyes sparkling, but she was still a little tired. Tim squeezed her against him, whispering, glancing back to the sunrise over his land. "She's waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Yeah, she's waiting."

"Do you love her?"

Yes, he thought, nodding, hugging Sophie again. "Yes I do. She's the love of my life." He could honestly say that, with no reservations. One day. Maybe soon, maybe in a million years…one day.

Until then, he'd be fine and he'd do his thing and have his life.

It was starting to turn into a pretty good life, he thought, pointing out to the sunrise. "Mommy's up there."

Sophie nodded quickly. "I know."

Tim leaned back on the truck, with his little sister, smiling. She was…she was good for him.

Thanks Mom.

I can honestly say I'm happy, Tim thought, briefly closing his eyes, smiling wider.

And he was.


	22. Adventure

**Chapter 22: Adventure**

"The first thing I recommend you do is begin to study the bone structure as it relates to the muscular and ligament attachments, be familiar with each and every one of these by class on Thursday, as we will be going over them as it relates to movement and flow…"

I have absolutely no idea what is going on right now.

Lyla held her pencil up, closing her eye and zeroing in on the eraser, which became the head of her professor, a short and dowdy looking woman who kept using the phrase 'as it relates.' Yeah, I get it, bones and muscles and ligaments and stuff…this is an anatomy class.

Well, one of four anatomy classes she had to take. To be honest she wasn't sure what the difference was between all four. Bones, muscles, and all that stuff. She moved her pencil back and forth, like a dart, her arms folded on her books and notebooks.

Everyone else had laptops and highlighters and was furiously marking up texts and rewriting and typing. The guy beside her glared at her; annoyed for some reason that she wasn't studying.

"Do you mind?" he mumbled.

"Do you?" she said, not bothering to lower her voice. She dropped her pencil to the desk, staring at the professor. Everyone around here wanted to be here.

A week and a half of class had passed and she hadn't studied. Hadn't opened up a book. She spent her evenings reading through books on business, designing a new logo for Buddy's, and trying desperately not to call Tim. Or get in her car and head to Dillon.

I don't want to be here.

What the hell are you doing Garrity? Why did her conscience sound like Tim? She could just see him, standing beside her, looking amused at how bored she was. He laughed, shaking his head.

You know what to have to do.

Yeah, I do. I'm sick of this crap.

Lyla folded up her notebooks, shoving everything into her bag. She pushed back the chair loudly, not bothering to apologize, her heels clicking on the linoleum as she walked out of the lecture hall, ignoring the stares of people. She shoved her sunglasses onto her face.

With her black leather jacket, black jeans, high heels, and her shorter dark hair, she felt pretty damn badass, blowing off in the middle of class. All she had to do now was go get a beer and she'd be completely converted.

She shoved everything into her car, climbing inside.

The books would go back, she'd try to get some of what she paid for them. She drove away from her apartment complex, lowering her windows, and grinning, hitting her hands on the steering wheel.

Lyla screamed, slamming her hands on the wheels, laughing and hitting her head back against the headrest. "Whoo!" she yelled, honking the horn.

I just blew off medical school.

I just took a full ride and shoved it up UT's ass.

I just did something insane.

She grabbed her cell phone, hitting the numbers burned into her memory, after staring at that damn proposal every single night, wondering if she'd made a mistake, if she'd…done something crazy. She lifted it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Travis Williams? This is Lyla Garriy, you offered me a job about a month and a half ago?"

Her potential boss chuckled. "Of course I remember you. Buddy's Bar, right? We're actually reviewing that proposal now. It's going to a vote for investment after the holiday weekend."

Her stomach kind of did a little happy dance; she hoped Buddy wouldn't completely freak out that she'd taken it upon herself to work out the details on the investment. He just was too off-putting and constantly picked the wrong horse, so to speak. Lyla nodded quickly. "Okay. Um…I was wondering…that job…"

"Is it still available?" Travis supplied.

Lyla nodded quickly, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "Yeah. Is it still available?"

"Unfortunately no."

I'm too late. I should never have…of course. This was stupid. She'd turn this car around and go right back to UT and sit back down in that boring anatomy class. Her eyes closed ever so briefly, before opening and focusing on the road again. "Ah…okay, I'm sorry for bothering you…"

"I'm sorry Lyla, I think you're misunderstanding me. The job in New Orleans is no longer available, but I have another property that I'd like to place under new management. It's not in the Big Easy, but it is in New York. Does that work for you?"

New York City.

Even better, she thought with a wide smile. She nodded quickly. "Ah…yeah, what is the property?"

"It's a bar in the Financial District. Catering to high-end clientele. I feel you'll be perfect for it as well."

A bunch of stockbrokers and hedge fund managers as clients. Very different from the rednecks she was used to working with. At least in New Orleans it'd be slightly similar. She took a deep breath, whispering. "Okay."

"Okay? Is that a yes, you'll take it?"

"Well, I don't ever say yes to anything unless I know what I'm getting into," she replied, smiling wide. Now came negotiating. "I'd like to meet to discuss this, if that's alright."

"More than alright. How about Tuesday at our offices in Austin?"

"Sounds great."

Travis laughed. "I am so glad you called, you have no idea how much grief I got from the partners when I said you'd turned us down for medical school. I think this is going to be the start of something big, Lyla."

Yeah, we'll see.

"By the way…I am available Saturday night for drinks, if you are as well? Would you like to meet at Bistro, around seven? We can get dinner afterward."

Lyla shook her head, smiling wide. She wasn't sure what to make of that, but she had her answer. "I'm sorry Travis. I'm…involved with someone."

"Is it serious?"

Who knew what the hell it was, but Lyla didn't want to jump into something with anyone new. Especially her soon-to-be boss. She shrugged a shoulder, answering. "It's serious. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Couldn't hurt to ask. I'll see you Tuesday Lyla and welcome aboard."

"Thank you." Lyla disconnected, tossing the phone aside, letting out a scream of happiness.

I'm doing what I want. I want to help people, but I always help people. I can give to charity or volunteer or something…but I can't go to medical school. I can't do anything else.

I want to run a business.

That's what I want.

In New York City of all places! Talk about a girl from the small-town going somewhere big. It was what she wanted…an adventure. Something new and different, like Vanderbilt had been.

She picked up her phone again, hitting the speed dial for the bar. It rang a few times, until a familiar, deep voice answered. "Buddy's."

"You're there early."

He paused, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, preparing for whatever conversation they were going to have. "Yeah. Covering for Angela. She's going to see Tyra in California…what's up? Your dad's not here."

"He left you in the bar alone?"

"He trusts me Garrity, shocking as that sounds."

"How's Sophie?"

He paused, his voice quieting. "She's coping as best as she can in her new house with her new guardian…I'm picking her up this weekend." They hadn't discussed how they would deal with that; if they could still see each other in Austin when he came to visit Sophie. Lyla didn't think it mattered anymore.

Tim cleared his throat. "Not that I mind, but, why are you calling?"

"I needed to tell my dad something that is going to give him a heart attack."

There was another pause; Lyla felt her heart quickening. It was real; she'd really just blown off medical school. Obviously she had to return books and talk to her advisor and speak with the registrar's office, but she'd do that later. She edged her car into another lane, taking the split west towards Dillon.

All of a sudden Tim chuckled. "So you did it."

Did what?

"Huh?"

"You left."

Lyla leaned back against her headrest, her hair whipping around her face and sunglasses. She swallowed hard. She didn't expect him to…how did he…hell, she shouldn't be surprised. He knew her too well to know she'd go through with it all.

She nodded, until she remembered they were talking on the phone and he couldn't see her. "Ah," she said, clearing her throat, her lip quirking upward a moment later. "Yeah…yeah I left."

"I knew you couldn't go through with it."

"What?"

"That's not you Garrity. Medical school. I knew you wouldn't last."

Why not? Tim whispered, a moment later. "Where are going now?"

Where am I going? I'm going home, she thought, smiling to herself. She took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "I have no idea Tim. For now…is Sophie going to be with you tonight?"

"No, she's back in Austin now, with her guardian."

Until you can petition to get custody of her, she thought idly, knowing that that was in his mind. It was the beginning stages, he hadn't even said anything to her yet, but it would happen. She knew it.

Lyla hit the accelerator a little harder with the pad of her foot, whispering into the phone, her eyes focused on the road. "I'm going to come home."

"Home?"

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Home."

Tim was quiet, finally whispering again. "I'll be home around two."

Lyla hung up, dropping her phone off to the side. She smiled wider, shaking her head slightly. She felt like she was absolutely floating on wings. Her fingers lifted to the locket nestled in the hollow of her throat; feeling like it was vibrating almost.

She felt really good.

Life was too short. There had been too many lessons in her life trying to teach her that and she hadn't really listened. Yes, being a doctor would be good and nice and she wanted that, she really did, but…deep down that wasn't her and Lyla was not going to fall back into being that person again.

I'm going to do what I want.

Reaching her arm forward, she draped it over her steering wheel, having absolutely no idea where she was going right now.

And it felt absolutely wonderful.


	23. Epilogue 1: Custody

**A/N:**There are essentially three Epilogues; this is the first. Each one jumps in time. Five years, five years, and then two years. Each one explains storylines I would like to have gotten into in this fic but I might have to do a sequel if I wanted to really get into them, since it's a whole other 20 chapters or so. If people are interested in that, of course, as I have no other fic waiting in the wings that I'm ready to start posting. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Thanks for the reviews, they mean a lot. :)

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**Epilogue 1: Custody  
**

_Five Years Later_

"Okay, I've heard from…" the judge scanned the list in front of her, glancing up towards him. She lowered her glasses. "I've heard from Mr. McConnell's legal team on reasons for and against achieving custody of Sophie. For the afternoon session of this trial, witnesses for Mr. Riggins's petition for custody of Sophie will be heard. Let's start with…" Judge Tracy Quinn glanced down at the list again, calling out to the courtroom. "Coach Eric Taylor? Are you here Coach?"

"Yes ma'am."

Tim sat in the chair behind the table, next to Hannibal, who felt like he'd become the Riggins Family Attorney. A complete alcoholic, he was actually a very good attorney; hell, he'd gotten me out of probation early. Hannibal had told him that custody was only 50/50.

While he was the brother, Jack had a sound case. He was claiming Anne was under duress and stress when she wrote her will, negating the custody agreement they'd come to during their divorce. Apparently, someone in the courts believed him, because they were here at a damn trial, rather than just going through formalities assigning him as Sophie's guardian.

Not that Anne's friend was bad or anything, but she was getting old and she wanted to move to Florida to stay with her family; she didn't want to take Sophie away, so together, they'd petitioned for him to receive custody.

Until Jack showed up, having been released from prison and not agreeing at all with Anne's wishes.

He was a complete and total asshole, Tim thought, glancing at Sophie's father. He looked like prison would agree with him, even if it were a white collar one; it was full of a bunch of stockbrokers and doctors who chose to break the law. More like a stricter version of summer camp.

Coach Taylor walked up from the benches in the back of the courtroom, taking the witness box. He smiled at him, giving him a slight nod. Yeah, thanks Coach, that's not going to help, Tim thought, biting at his bottom lip. He glanced at the judge, who asked Coach to speak about his character.

So Coach did, saying almost the same thing he'd said at his parole hearing, way back when. How he was a good man, strong of character, who had made mistakes, but he'd made penance for those mistakes; he'd built his own house, started his own business, and had the values necessary for a healthy life for Sophie under his care.

After several minutes, the judge dismissed him, lifting up a piece of paper. "Okay, how about…"

Hannibal stood up, holding a piece of paper. "Your Honor, we'd like to request your second witness be the written statement of Dr. Tyra Collette. She's a child psychologist who couldn't be here today, her practice is in Pasadena, California, but I do request this be read into the record as witness testimony."

"So ordered," the judge said, taking the letter. She perused it for a second, glancing at Jack and his attorneys. "Do you have your copy? Okay, let's see…"

Tim smiled as the judge began to read Tyra's statement requesting he get custody. It was full of her usual…Tyra-ness. Sly comments questioning the character of a father who abandoned his kid and went to prison and blatantly demanding statements that he get Sophie instead.

He turned his thoughts deeper, no longer paying attention to the judge. This was something that he'd wanted from the beginning, but…he was ready now. He had the house finished and his business was doing very well. He no longer worked at the bar, so he could be there to pick her up and between him, Billy, and Mindy, there was a stable support system for Sophie. Plus they had Buddy, what good that might do them.

Sophie wanted it; hell, she'd told everyone. They even interviewed her, but Jack somehow got it thrown out, claiming she'd been brainwashed.

How they were at this point, Tim didn't know, just that he was getting sick of it. He wanted his little sister to come stay with him. She was ten now; she knew what was happening but was still a little confused.

Right now, she was staying with Mindy and the boys, since they got temporary custody until this could be hammered out. Anne's friend had already moved to Florida.

"Mr. Riggins?"

Tim lifted his head, nodding slightly. "Yes?" He stood, swallowing the lump in his throat. He hated courtrooms. "Yes Your Honor?"

"Do you have any more witnesses to testify on your behalf?"

Ah…what about the list of people he had on there? Hannibal glanced at him, muttering something about Jack's legal team challenging a couple of them. Billy couldn't testify, for instance, because he was somewhat involved in getting custody as well. Buddy was one of his other witnesses, but he chose this exact moment to go on his belated honeymoon with Angela.

I don't have any more witnesses, Tim panicked, glancing at Jack and the other team. He hoped that Coach and Tyra could just…convince the judge. Tyra was a very convincing person. Coach Taylor was…well he was Coach Taylor.

Ah…what now?

In the back of the courtroom, one of the heavy doors opened, closing loudly as it shut, echoing somewhat; a set of heels clicked on the linoleum floor; Tim didn't look to see who just came in. A quiet voice called out. "Your Honor, if I may be allowed to speak?"

Jack's attorney sprang to her feet. "Your Honor, we don't have this witness on our list."

Tim turned his head, to see who it was, and his eyes widened in surprise. Wow.

Garrity.

Lyla approached the bench, her hand on the cross-body bag on her hip. Everything about her seemed…different. Each time he saw her, in the last five years, she changed. Not like Tyra, constantly changing her hair color, but just…her entire pose.

She was…confident, that's the word, Tim thought, smiling and watching her, shifting on her heels. She bit her lip a little nervously, tucking her dark hair behind her ear, smiling. Her voice didn't tremble, but was quite firm. "Your Honor, I'd…I'd like to say something in this matter."

The judge glanced down from the bench at her. "And you are?"

"Lyla…Lyla Garrity."

"And what is your relationship to Tim Riggins?"

Yeah, what is it, Tim thought, smiling a little, watching her.

"I'm…" Lyla tossed her hair over her shoulder, briefly glancing at him, before smiling again. "I'm his friend. I was with him when he first learned about Sophie, five years ago, after his mother died. I've known him since we were little kids."

Judge Quinn nodded towards the witness stand. "Alright then. Take a seat, don't worry counselor, you'll be allowed to cross-examine her if you so choose. Ms. Garrity, take a seat, and when you're ready, you can give your statement."

Lyla climbed up into the witness box, not making eye contact with him. What are you going to say, Tim wondered, his fingers digging slightly into his knees. He felt his heart begin to beat rapidly. It wasn't like she'd get up there and stab him in the back; he had no worries for that because she had no reason to and quite frankly, there was nothing she could even use against him.

But what was she doing here? He didn't even tell her about this whole thing; they hadn't talked in awhile…they didn't really talk at all.

Some exes could be friends, look at him and Tyra. Some couldn't.

Look at him and Lyla.

He focused on her, frowning a little, watching her clear her throat, folding her hands in her lap, her back straight, and attention on the judge. She spoke, her voice clear and to the point.

"My name is Lyla Garrity, I live in New York City, and so I'm sorry I'm a bit late, my flight got delayed…"

"What is your occupation Ms. Garrity?" the judge asked.

"I'm the manager of a bar in Midtown, called Gridiron."

The judge frowned, glancing down at her, pointing. "Is that the one that was on all those cooking channel shows? The one that all the football players go to, near Broadway?"

Lyla nodded, smiling. "Yes Your Honor. I graduated two years ago with an MBA from Columbia, summa cum laude. I'm currently in the process of opening my own bar and establishing my own restaurant investment business."

"That's admirable. How do you know Mr. Riggins?"

She took a deep breath; hell, he even knew what she was thinking. How much time do you got judge? Tim focused on her, listening. "Well your Honor, I grew up in Dillon, with Tim. We've known each other since we were little kids; we were in the same elementary school. I dated his best friend up until our sophomore year and I dated Tim for about a year or so after that. I've always known him as this caring, devoted, and loving man, who would…who would…do anything for his family and his friends, even if it meant he'd lose…" She bit her lip, whispering. "Lose opportunities for himself, so that others he loved might be able to have them."

The jail thing, she was alluding to the jail thing, he thought.

She glanced down at her hands, continuing, her voice steady. "My experience with Tim has been…rocky, but good. At times he can be frustrating, but he is a good guy who protects his friends and family. I was being bullied pretty bad in school once and he sat down at the lunch table with me, not caring what other people thought and trying to cheer me up, even if he was the brunt of the taunts as well."

"And he took me in, when I had a falling out with my father and had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to, and he said we were family and he'd always be there for me." Lyla smiled at him, not breaking eye contact, her voice cracking. "He was my best friend. We broke up after high school, went our separate ways, but when I came back to Dillon after college, Tim was there for me when I needed someone to help me…figure out my future. He took in his mother and he forgave her, even when she was dying of cancer and he had no reason to do any of that."

"He had no reason to take this little girl, his sister, and love her within minutes." She broke eye contact, glancing up at the judge, who was listening. "He took a little girl who he had never met, and who he could have completely ignored and he loved her. He took her to the zoo, he picked her up at the hospital when Anne couldn't drive home, and in three months, from when he first found out about Anne and Sophie until Anne's death, Tim didn't recognize that he hadn't known Sophie since she was born, but that didn't matter."

She took another deep breath, continuing, glancing back towards him. "Sophie needed someone when her mother died and Tim was there. He took care of her, he let her stay with him, and he explained everything to her. He's the only person she knows as her caregiver other than her mother and to take them away from each other would be cruel. To take away a little girl who only needs someone to love her from someone who will only ever love her…it's just cruel."

"And he might have his faults, but Tim protects those he cares about and loves. He has a good job, he built it from the bottom up with his bare hands, and it's important to him. It means something because it's something that he built and I think we can all say that when we do something on our own, when we can accomplish something even after so many people in our lives tell us we can't, we won't ever let it fail." She took another breath, her voice thickening, and eyes on him. "He can provide her a family, which is what Sophie needs. Sophie doesn't need someone who doesn't know her. She needs someone who for the last five years has been helping her with schoolwork, with making friends, and figuring out her life without parents. Just the way that he had to figure out his life, without his mother and father."

She whispered. "Sophie needs her big brother and Tim needs his little sister."

Lyla took a deep breath, whispering. "And I can only think of one man I would want to father my children and that's Tim. I couldn't think of another possible father figure I would want Sophie, a little girl I love just as much, to have. She would be loved, cared for, and protected by a family that built itself from the bottom up and by a man who only knows what it's like to love someone else."

The entire courtroom plunged into silence for a good few seconds, until Lyla tossed her hair from her eyes, glancing up and whispering. "I'm done Your Honor."

Wow.

Tim stared at her, his fingers digging into his palm, fisted on top of the table. He met her eyes, mouthing 'thank you.' Hell, he couldn't imagine how hard it was for her to do that. Although…it was Lyla Garrity. It wasn't like she could stand aside.

She simply smiled. 'Your welcome' she mouthed back, waiting for the judge to dismiss her, glancing down at her hands.

Judge Quinn glanced towards everyone, clearing her throat. "Well I have no questions for this witness. Counselor, do you have anything you'd like to ask Ms. Garrity?"

The attorney for Jack stood up, shaking her head, sighing. Maybe she knew it was over. She looked pretty defeated. "No your Honor."

"Very well. We're in recess. Don't go far, I'll make my decision by the end of the day and notify counsel for Mr. McConnell and Mr. Riggins. I want everyone to keep in mind that this is an emotionally charged situation and regardless of the outcome, a young girl's livelihood is at stake here and I ask you to keep that in mind before you say or do anything else."

What do you think I'm going to do? Kill the guy, Tim wondered, not looking at Sophie's biological father. Maybe. He might just do that. Some of the things he'd said about Anne…Tim didn't think it was fair at all; she was dead. She couldn't defend herself.

What she wanted was Sophie to go to her friend and to see her brothers and for her biological father to have nothing to do with her. Tim still couldn't believe the judge negated the will. Otherwise they wouldn't even be here.

They all stood, waiting for the judge to vacate the courtroom.

He got up almost immediately after the door closed, hurrying after Lyla, who had swept up from the witness box, striding out of the courtroom, ignoring Billy telling him to stay back or Coach Taylor trying to grab his arm. He wanted to know why she came back. Who told her? Why? Why not call him and let him know?

They saw each other at Christmas, about five months ago. It had been fine; Sophie was in Austin and she'd stopped by his house. They had gone into the kitchen, gotten a drink, and went into the living room.

She sat at one end of the couch and he sat at the other, not saying anything. Until one look later and they were flying up the stairs to the bedroom; like they were freaking teenagers who couldn't keep their damn hands off each other, not thinking. They hid in his bedroom for almost three full days, living in their bubble of happiness, until Christmas, and she came to the old house with Sophie and…and it was nice. It was a family. All of them.

The weird twisted…Riggins-Collette-Garrity clan, he supposed.

Tim pushed open the heavy courtroom door, finding her sitting on the steps, wiping at her eyes. "Garrity," he called, walking over towards her, kneeling down, frowning when she tried to turn away. He touched her shoulder. "Hey."

"Tim, please, this is very hard for me," she almost begged. She held her hand out, biting at her bottom lip, lifting her face. Pink blotches were beneath her eyes and around her nose, from where she'd been wiping furiously. Almost embarrassed. "I…look, Tyra called me, okay? She said that you might need someone…I just…" She stood up quickly, pushing at his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I didn't…didn't know you'd even want to come. That was stupid. Of course she'd come if he asked. He shrugged, whispering, feeling like a dumbass for not telling her. "I just…you were living your life Garrity," he whispered. I just don't want to upset that. He pushed lightly at her shoulder, frustrated all of a sudden. "It was your idea not to talk, okay? I just was…respecting that!"

"Not on something like this Tim."

He shook his head, staring down at her; she was just peering up at him, trying not to smile. He chuckled, reaching to wrap his arms around her; she walked right into his, her head on his shoulder. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

They held each other for awhile, finally leaving the stairs to go sit out at one of the tables and chairs beneath the trees, with other people who were probably in the same boat as them, waiting on a judge. Lyla showed him photos of her bar, said he'd really like it, she was going to turn it kind of into a high school sports bar, given the success of Gridiron.

And he showed her pictures of Sophie. Sometimes he felt like a total heel, whipping out his phone all the time, but he was proud of her. Sophie had grown up pretty well in five years. She was in dance class, which she adored.

It felt like hours; maybe it was, but Tim was just so happy to have her there with him. They could do this, right? They could be friends.

Until she got that look in her eye; that sad…sad look. Yeah. He knew it too. Friends, sure. They just wanted something more than that. They always had.

If only you could be in two places at once.

Tim was about to suggest she stay for dinner; Lyla had said that she needed to get on a red-eye back to New York, she had a meeting in the morning. Except before he could ask, Billy was running around the corner of the courtroom.

"Judge is back!" he yelled, before taking off back to the room.

Oh God.

Tim gripped Lyla's hand, going up into the courtroom. So this was it, huh? He let go of Lyla, feeling Coach Taylor pat his back, whispering it would be okay. Mrs. Taylor said something kind of like that to him as well. He hugged and kissed Becky's cheek and heard the 'good luck' from Luke, but hell, he had no idea what to expect.

He stood beside Hannibal, who assured him that they could appeal if it didn't turn out in their favor. Tim didn't look at Jack or his lawyers. He might run over there and start punching him.

"All rise."

The door opened, the judge walking back in, holding a bunch of paperwork. She took her seat, told them to sit down and folded her hands in front of her, speaking loud and clear, glancing at both of them as she did so. "I want you to know that I did not make this decision lightly. I looked a both sides of the argument for custody of Sophie Rose McConnell as well as the testimony provided to me by members of your family and community. Further, I placed heavy focus on the recommendations provided to me by the court-appointed child psychologists."

Judge Quinn took a deep breath, her eyes closing. "I do not like to separate a child from her biological parent."

Tim felt his stomach drop; behind him, he heard Becky mutter 'bitch' and Lyla gasped. He bit his bottom lip. That couldn't be it, right? There had to be more.

"However."

Oh my God, Tim thought, repeating that in his head, his eyes widening slightly, trying to block out the sounds of his stupid family behind him, making all their noise, despite how happy and excited they were beginning to become. Shut up; let me listen!

The judge glanced at Jack. "Mr. McConnell for most of this young girl's life you have been imprisoned. I have heard testimony to indicate that despite this you wish to provide her a home. I do not doubt that you can make amends for your previous transgressions; however, at this point and time I feel that your attempts to discredit a woman who is deceased and cannot speak for herself as well as attempt to separate a child from her siblings, stating that they are not productive members of society or decent caregivers, when all appears to be contrary to those statements, is disgraceful."

Judge Quinn glanced down at the papers, before lifting her eyes back, glancing towards Tim. She lifted her voice over the sound of the people beginning to murmur on either side of the courtroom. "I have therefore decided to find in favor of the Riggins family and order that full legal and physical custody of the minor child Sophie Rose McConnell be given to her biological half-brother Tim Riggins, with permissions to her other biological half-brother Billy Riggins and his wife Mindy Riggins." The judge held up her hand, when Becky let out a yell of happiness. "Let me finish."

She smiled, leaning on the bench, focusing on him. "Mr. Riggins, you are very young to be raising a 10-year old girl. You might have your own business, you may have built your life from the bottom up, and I understand that even in your young life you have undergone significant challenges and overcome them. For the next two years from the date of the signed judgment, I am recommending a social worker be assigned to your case, to ensure you are providing a safe and healthy home for Sophie, complete with intermittent and random home visits. Do you understand?"

He nodded quickly. I don't even know what's happening, Tim thought, staring up at her, whispering. "Yes Your Honor."

"Your brother has a more stable home for the child, but at the same time, I know he has children and well, Dillon is going for a state championship this year and as head coach his attention might be split."

Yeah, no kidding, Tim thought, hearing Coach Taylor mumble an agreement behind him. He smiled a little. "Yes Your Honor."

The judge glanced away from him, towards Sophie's father, who was seething. "I believe, Mr. McConnell, that you should reflect on the actions you and your legal team have taken in this matter and perhaps in the future, should you choose to appeal or seek custody of Sophie, that you not take those same tactics," Judge Quinn spelled out, lifting an eyebrow. "And I am also stating in my judgment that Tim Riggins and his family be the ones to decide whether you are to see your daughter and I am instituting a restraining order to ensure that you follow that order."

She reached for her gavel. "The judgment will be written and sent to both counsels for signature and review. This session is adjourned."

The echo of the gavel was all it took for the entire group behind him to leap up and start cheering.

Tim laughed, turning and throwing his arms around Lyla, who was suddenly behind him. He mumbled into her shoulder. "Thank you."

"No problem," she laughed, pulling away. She kissed his cheek, her dark eyes swimming in tears, patting his shoulders, and laughing. "You're going to be great."

"Timmy!" Billy yelled, leaping over one of the benches.

He screamed with Billy, both of them jumping up and down. Mrs. Taylor told them to hush, so he did, grabbing Lyla's hand and running out of the courtroom, not bothering to thank anyone else.

He had to get to Sophie.

By this time Mindy probably already knew what was happening from Billy. He didn't listen to Lyla's protests about her rental car still at the courthouse, practically throwing her into his truck.

They drove in silence; he felt like if eh spoke he'd just start screaming in happiness again. He sped through town; only slowing when Lyla mentioned it might not be the best thing to get pulled over for a speeding ticket immediately after a judge gave you custody of a young girl.

He finally came to a stop in front of the old ranch, leaping out; probably left his truck still running and shot up the walkway, not knocking and throwing open the door. "Sophie!" he yelled, stepping over one of the twins and some toys, running through the back door.

Mindy screamed in happiness, holding her phone, and running towards him, but he didn't even really see her, focusing only on Sophie, who was running at him, laughing. He threw his arms around her, lifting the now pretty tall ten-year old up into the air.

"I'm yours now?" Sophie giggled.

"You were always ours," he reminded her, kissing her cheek hard and setting her back down on her feet. He grinned, hugging her again. He felt like he was flying.

Never in his life did he believe he could feel like this.

Sophie began to cry, excited and happy. He just held her, swaying lightly while she came to terms with what happened; how it was all over now. All the back and forth and the uncertainty. She had a home and a family.

I know that that's like; it's overwhelming, he thought, closing his eyes, rubbing at her back and just holding his little sister.

He smiled into her shoulder, spinning her around; hell, he never thought he'd be this happy in his entire life. It was…weird.

"When can I move in with you?" Sophie asked, a few quiet moments later.

"Whenever you want." Immediately. Let's get this whole thing official.

She nodded quickly, her feet touching back to the ground, looking up at him, her eyes wide. They were identical to his. Identical to Anne.

Thanks Mom, he thought, glancing up at the clear sky. He dropped his gaze to Sophie, who was now looking around him, her arms wrapping around his waist, whispering. "Lyla?"

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Lyla standing in the doorway, just smiling. And crying. Of course with her, crying was usually a given during emotional situations. He nodded, whispering. "Yeah. Lyla."

Mindy ran over, hugging him, almost knocking him backwards into the pool, where Stevie was yelling that he was trying to condition for football and they could all stop yelling now. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the twins were shouting, excited just by the excitement.

It was something to be happy about, he thought, trying to get back to Lyla.

Several hours later, once everyone had finished…celebrating, Tim went outside, just for some peace. It had gotten pretty crazy in the small house, completely stuffed with people. Some he barely knew. All of Sophie's little friends she'd made throughout her time when she was in Dillon were over. There was a lot of pink running around.

"You're going to have to get used to the loudness, little girls tend to squeal," Lyla said, coming up to sit beside him, out back, on the diving board over the pool. It was getting cold; most everyone was still inside.

She sat on the diving board beside him, removing her shoes and setting them aside, her toes dangling into the lit-up aqua water. "You know in my whole life, this pool has never been filled."

"Billy and I used to skateboard in it." He broke his arm, when he was ten that way. Anne took him to the doctor; she was yelling how he was an idiot for doing something like that. He hated her. It wasn't until later did he realize she was just terrified he'd really hurt himself.

Lyla glanced sideways, whispering. "I changed my flight for the morning. Figured I'd…stay at my dad's house."

"Yeah." He smiled at her, whispering. "You didn't come to the wedding."

"I know. Tyra said it was so tacky that she wanted to trade places with me."

"Where were you again?"

Lyla tucked her hair behind her ear, her voice quiet. "I was in France. Taking this class on wine. For one of the bars I manage. It's a wine bar, it's…pretty nice, but…need to know what I'm talking about if I'm expected to manage it."

Yeah. She had the one bar, but he knew there were others. Lyla Garrity, the business mogul. He always knew she'd make it big. He rested his head beside hers, whispering, looking down into the water. There was a toy of some sort near the drain. "What you said…in the courtroom…"

"Tim, we don't have to…"

No, he didn't want to talk about it. It was nice what she said; it felt uncomfortable for him to hear those types of things, but…he'd learned throughout the years not to question them. They came in handy. Like at his parole hearing and again, today.

He shook his head again, breathing. "I just wanted…want to say that…" He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He shrugged, chuckling. "Guess I just want to say I love you."

Not looking at him, but focusing on the pool, he saw Lyla's smile pull at the corners of her lips. She blinked a few times, turning her face to meet his, the light coming from the water highlighting her face. She whispered, still smiling. "I love you too."

"One day Garrity."

She nodded, looking up at the sky with him, the two of them side-by-side on the diving board, feet in the water, not really touching each other, just sitting comfortably, like old friends. She released a deep breath, nodding in agreement again. "Yes Tim. One day."

He was comfortable with that. Things were finally in place. "I'm happy," he said, a few quiet minutes later.

I'm actually very happy.

Lyla smiled, whispering. "I'm very glad."


	24. Epilogue 2: That's Your Pitch?

**A/N:**Thank you so much for the reviews :) I am working on a sequel (of sorts) to this fic. It's going to be even more of a work-in-progress than this one was. This is the second Epilogue, there is one more that is the final. Each one ends the POV of that character (this is Lyla's end chapter, so to speak and last one was Tim's. Final Epilogue is someone else ;) You can guess who. Enjoy.

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**Epilogue 2: That's Your Pitch?**

_Five Years Later_

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

Lyla stood in an attorney's office of the high-rise overlooking Midtown, hiding her smile behind her hand, an arm over her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder at her investment manager and her attorney. Both of them didn't seem thrilled at the idea of what she was about to do.

Yeah, well, not many people would.

She shifted on her Louboutin heels, studying the street of yellow cabs, people, and general New York mayhem, which she'd come to love, but was now growing weary of.

She turned on her heel, looking down the long walnut table at them. Her voice was cool. "I want to thank you both for your help. You've made me a very rich woman." Not that that was her end goal when she went into the restaurant and bar business.

In the end though, it had made her an incredibly wealthy woman, starting with that first job managing the bar on Wall Street, which she did while she got her MBA. She set up her own business with what she knew, her own corporation and began to invest in what she'd already made.

Now she had two bars and two restaurants to her name; all of them had been featured in various publications and on television, mostly because she'd started attracting incredibly talented chefs, managers, and bartenders.

The Garrity Corporation had done what it was supposed to do, which was provide her a job that both allowed her to live a life, to pay for an apartment and her car and the occasional nice vacation. It had also provided her a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment.

I can keep going at this for the rest of my life, she thought, smiling serenely at the two men at the end of the table, looking at her obliviously. To them, this was insane. Why would a rich, successful woman want to appoint a new CEO and take a backseat to her own company? Which was only just growing. They'd moved offices; she'd hired on more people. It had become mid-size, rather than something she was running out of her apartment.

Because.

Because my life, it's missing something. She'd discovered that, on her last trip back to Dillon, at Easter. She'd been there for two days and when she left, a piece of her heart was missing.

It was time.

Lyla lifted her finger to the locket she never took off. No matter what she was wearing or doing, the locket stayed with her always. It was one of her most treasured possessions, if not the most. She smiled, long and slow, glancing back to the men at the table. "I am 33-years old. I've made a lot of money in a short time and I will continue to make money. My businesses are in capable hands and once I sign that document, I will take on an honorary position in my own company and hand the reigns over to my current COO."

She leaned her hands on the table, grinning. "I don't need to explain myself." She laughed a little, closing her eyes. It was just something that had to be done. It was time.

In ten years she'd had a few boyfriends. One fiancé. She couldn't bring herself to go through with it, too busy wondering 'what if.' It was time.

Lyla walked around the table, picking up the contract, which she had read numerous times, and scribbled her name at the bottom. She watched them both witness it and then notarize.

Done.

Time to get on the road.

The loft she had in SoHo was already up for sublet; she'd sold the majority of her furniture, since she didn't want it anymore. The car was packed. It was time to go.

A few days later, she found herself walking up a sloping hill to the grave, where he was standing. It was…ten years ago. Wow. Seemed like a million. Seemed almost like yesterday.

He was standing there, hands in his pockets, quiet.

She cleared her throat, calling out, but keeping her voice quiet, out of deference to the place they were in. "Hey."

He turned quickly, his hands remaining in his pockets. He seemed surprised. Not saying a word, she walked up to him and leaned down, setting the small bouquet of wildflowers she'd picked up at a florist earlier, against the grave, touching the top. She stepped back towards him, whispering. "Beloved Mother," she read. "That's pretty."

"Yeah." Tim frowned, glancing at her and then to the grave. He cocked his head, whispering. "Thought you were in New York."

Lyla touched her locket, seeing his eyes fall towards it, before lifting back to her. He seemed different. Not too much since she last saw him at Easter. It had been off and on, since the custody hearing. Sometimes he had a girlfriend. Sometimes she had a boyfriend.

Sophie had threatened to run away when she came back last time, because he had a girlfriend she couldn't stand. Tyra was in town for a visit; it had been full of drama, because Tyra had threatened to break him up with his girlfriend if he didn't. She'd just watched, amused.

The last time she'd seen him, his hair had been shorter; it was longer, just a bit. He still had the scruffy beard. Still wore the same boots. Lyla was sure of a few things in the world. The sun would always rise in the east, set in the west, and Tim Riggins would always look the same.

She cleared her throat, tossing her hair out of her eyes, which were sparkling in pure happiness at being here. It was the best decision she'd made, she thought, to come back. "I was in New York. Now I'm here." She nodded towards him, whispering. "So…how is it going with Sophie?"

"It's going."

She chuckled. "Fifteen-year old girl is a little different. I hear it's like a whole different species, I bet you're having fun. Worst is passed, I guess."

Ordinarily he might have started to joke with her or play along, but she could sense his curiosity at her unexplained presence on a day where the banks were still open. They had to stay away from each other. He had to live his life and she had to live her life, that couldn't exist if they were in touch all the time.

He cocked his head slightly, whispering. "I saw the magazine article, your dad has it in the bar."

Yeah, Buddy had gone a little crazy. The wall with all the magazine and newspaper articles about the young up and coming restaurateur Lyla Garrity, from a small Texas town; every single one of them framed on what Buddy called his "Lyla Wall" in a part of the bar, toasting to her accomplishments.

Tim glanced at his mother's grave and then to Lyla. "So what are you doing here Garrity?"

"I knew it was the anniversary. Ten years ago…I thought I'd come pay my respects. She was a…a woman who made some mistakes, but she overcame them…" Lyla glanced down at the grave, thinking. It was a good place…time…to tell him, she supposed.

She smiled at him, shrugging her shoulders and whispering. "I'm thinking about sticking around…there's an opening at Buddy's Bar and Grill for a regional manager…"

Not really, but still.

Tim waited a beat. His voice was quiet, almost trembling. "What about your bars in New York?"

She shrugged, whispering. "It's doing a great business, but I hired someone to take over. They're still mine, I still get my cut, but…New York really isn't the city for me." It was. For a time, but…New York City was missing a critical element she'd come to want desperately in the last couple years.

"And what is the city for you?"

"I don't know." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "How about Dillon? You think that's the place for me?"

Tim released a long sigh, shaking his head. He smiled, glancing back to his mother's grave.

Regrets, Lyla thought. Regrets…they could be…could last forever and they could come up when you realize it's the end…or they could happen in the future. He didn't want to live with regrets; he witnessed his mother, on her deathbed, sobbing about her regrets, she knew he had. She also knew him well enough to know that the same thoughts were running through his mind, about what to do or what not to do in this situation.

Come on Tim, do it.

He dug the toe of his boot into the grass, his hands in his pockets. They stood like that for a few minutes, until he spoke, keeping his voice soft. "I have a business. It's doing pretty well…Double Three Contracting."

"Yeah I know. I saw the signs on the road."

Her heart began to thud; her palms started sweating.

"And…and the thing is…my head just can't wrap around management so I'm paying Becky and Mindy to help and well…" He shrugged. "They're probably overcharging me. It needs a manager. A good manager. It's doing really good and…and yeah, so it needs a manager. Someone that knows business stuff."

I can do that, she thought, smiling quietly, waiting for him to continue. He did, keeping his voice soft, but a smile was starting to pull at his lips, unable to hide his feelings. "I live with a fifteen-year old…it's…very interesting. I've already dealt with puberty stuff and the mortification of having to go the drugstore with her one morning and the first 'real' doctor's appointment, that completely sucked, I think we both wanted to die."

He sighed, shrugging. "There's this boy that hangs around and moons over her, I don't like that either, not good, not gonna' lie, makes me kind of want to kill him…but she's my sister, not my daughter….but even so, he plays football and I know too much about what went on with football players and what I did, so yeah, she's gonna' start getting locked in at night…"

He laughed a little, continuing. "And we're just kind of this messed up family. My brother coaches the football team, so sometimes you can find him hiding in my attic, when the Boosters start getting annoyed. His wife is a stripper, so they fight a lot about that and he's usually hiding from her too. I have this other sister…person…thing that Becky is. She's pregnant right now, so she's crazy hormonal and threatens to kill me on a daily basis even when I do nothing wrong and had absolutely nothing to do with her current state."

"I go to work every morning at four and I come home every night at six. I go to bed at nine at night like some old man. The highlight of my life is when I get to go to Austin for meetings and stuff and I hate it, I'd rather just be on my porch with a beer and…and it's really nice."

This was repeating history, sort of, she thought, remembering a sad, sad night in that old trailer. Tears began to prick the corners of her eyes, the smile already tugging at the corners of her lips.

"And it's not that big of a life, but…it's kind of a great life." Tim smiled, shrugging and whispering. "And you can be a part of it if you want."

It sounded like a great life. Like something she wanted now after ten years of being away, of running all over the place, and working 80-hour weeks for ten years.

Lyla blinked a few times, but the tears were already slipping out. She shrugged, her hands lifting up in the air, smiling wide. Her voice cracked, knowing the moment he was repeating. What she was repeating. "That's it? That's the pitch?"

"That's it."

"It's hard to walk away from." Her voice thickened even more; she hiccupped, her breath catching. She bit down hard on her lip, touching the locket on her neck.

And it felt a million years later when she just laughed and took two steps towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, her face burying in his shoulder.

Oh God, she thought, wanting to just start laughing, her feet lifting up from the ground as he swung her in the air. He held her tight; held her close. He swayed lightly with her, and she heard his laughter. She began to laugh as well, thinking maybe she was crying, but she was laughing.

He grinned wide, looking down at her. "That a yes?"

Lyla didn't say anything; her lips pulled over her teeth and her eyes crinkled up in a smile. "It's not a no," she replied, letting go of him and glancing down at the grave. Her hand slipped into his and she whispered. "Your mother coming back changed a lot of things."

That was the ultimate…kicker, she supposed. His mother's return, ten years ago.

"Yeah." It was a turning point. For her, for him, and even for Billy and of course, Sophie.

They stood together for a few minutes, just reveling in what had happened. She let go of him, touching the top of the headstone, which he mimicked. She let go, taking a few steps away, while he waited.

She heard him utter a soft "Thanks Mom."

Lyla swore she heard it back. Maybe she was going crazy.

They returned to the cars; she got into hers and he got into his, driving away. She laughed, yelled, and just grinned the entire drive from the cemetery towards his house, finally pulling in a few seconds after he did, climbing from her car at the same time he got out of his.

The dark blue front door opened and what had to be Sophie ran out, leaning against the porch railing. Lyla took her in; at fifteen, she was almost the spitting image of him, but she had higher cheekbones and her eyes were a lot greener, like Anne. She was also pretty tall, for a girl. "Hey Tim! Can I go over to David's house for dinner tonight?" she yelled.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on! His mom and dad are nice."

"I don't know them, you're not going over there."

Lyla nudged his shoulder, whispering. "Who is David?"

"This boy," he mumbled, sounding annoyed. Lyla laughed; knowing him, he didn't trust David as far as he could throw him. Fifteen-year old boys only had one thing on their mind and Tim certainly knew what that was.

He went up to the porch, his arm going around his little sister. "We got company for dinner anyway."

Sophie turned her head from him, her dark hair bound in a braid that whipped over her shoulder. She smiled wide, her teeth encased in pink and silver braces. Lyla wondered how much that ended up costing him and Billy. "Lyla!" she exclaimed, recognizing Lyla. She waved. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, but just smiled, walking up onto the porch, wrapping her arms around Sophie in a big hug. "You've gotten so big! Even from the last time I was back! And you got braces as well, wow!"

"Yeah, they were like a million dollars or something, but of course Tim exaggerates."

"I do not."

Yes you do, they both seemed to say, glaring at him. He shrugged, but smiled. Sophie turned back to her, smiling again. "So are you back in Dillon to visit?"

The two of them met each other's gazes.

I haven't really told him exactly, but…we both know, she thought. She shrugged, whispering, keeping her eyes on his. "I might be staying."

"How long?"

Tim ran his tongue over his teeth, his hands on his hips. He cleared his throat, nodding to the house. "Come on Sophie, let's find some food."

Sophie glanced at Lyla, shrugging. "So you're gonna' stay in Dillon? Cool. How long?" she repeated.

Tim lifted his eyes up to hers, waiting. She touched the locket on her throat and stepped between him and Sophie, not saying a word; it didn't need to be said, before she turned around as she walked backwards into the house.

"Indefinitely," she called over her shoulder. From the porch, she heard Sophie ask what that meant or how long that was.

Tim's answer was quiet, but it lifted Lyla's heart up, almost clear from her chest. "It means forever."


	25. Epilogue 3: Sophie's Family

**Epilogue 3: Sophie's Family**

_Two Years Later_

One, two, en pointe…

Three, four, en pointe…

It was all in the rhythm, she thought, watching her reflection in the mirrors of the dance room, her toes aching in her shoes, springing back and forth, practicing the steps to Odette's dance, reminding herself tomorrow she'd practice Odile. Swan Lake was her favorite ballet; she'd played it three times in various forms.

The music faded, finally stopping. Sophie reached for her towel, wiping at her face, which was pouring sweat. She closed her eyes and took a few breaths, walking away from the barre towards her iPod, which was set in the speaker system in her personal barre, in the barn out behind her house. She switched over to another song, walking back towards the mirror, staring at her reflection.

She dragged a chair into the middle of the floor, leaning on it, her feet stretched out. "Go," she called over her shoulder to the voice-activated iPod, which immediately started the music compilation of hip-hop and classical.

Sophie jumped clear into the air in a splitz, her toes coming up to the same level as her ears, using the chair as her prop, mixing her footsteps between classic ballet and quick-moving hip-hip, spinning the chair around, dancing around it and jumping. She leaped over it, the music slamming to an end just as she did a split, her hands behind her on the seat of the chair, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Done.

Julliard, here I come, she thought with a smile.

_Sophie, one day you're going to be famous, I know it._

I know Mom, she thought, hearing her mother in her head. Like she usually did when she danced. It was…her time to sort of commune with her.

_Sophie, I know you get that 'nothing else matters' feeling when you dance. And so long as you keep getting that feeling, I'll keep letting you go all over the damn world to dance._

And whenever she ached and swelled and felt like it just wasn't worth it to wake up at four every single morning and feel like her feet were going to just fall off her body for the better part of ten years, she thought of what Tim told her, the day she wanted to quit, when she missed out on the part of Sleeping Beauty last year, in the Austin Youth Ballet production.

Nothing else matters, she thought, just dancing.

She straightened up and glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. It was almost six; she'd been doing this now for an hour and a half. Time for cool-down.

She stretched for 30 minutes, getting up when she was done and gathering her things. It was still dark outside and the house was silent as she showered and got dressed. She peeked into the master bedroom before she was set to leave, hearing the shower running in its adjoining bathroom and seeing that her sister-in-law was still asleep. Well, she was sleeping, but also snoring. Ever since she'd been forced to lie on her back all the time, she snored so loud the whole house could hear.

Sophie chuckled, jogging down the stairs and grabbing an orange for breakfast, leaving a note on the counter that she had to get to school to practice some more. She ran down the driveway, hopping into the waiting car with her boyfriend and headed off to school.

Just a boring day, she thought, going through the motions of being a 17-year old in Dillon.

Or at least, she thought it was a normal day, until the second-to-last period of the day. She had her head down, her pencil running across her notebook, ballet steps in her mind. She needed to prepare a second audition; the hip-hop/ballet combo might be too…modern for Julliard.

"Sophie Riggins!"

Uh-oh.

Sophie lifted her head, gazing through the room at her math teacher, pretending like she hadn't been almost sleeping. "Yeah?" she asked.

Mrs. Palermo had a pass in her hand; there was no mistaking the pale blue slip of paper. "Mrs. Taylor wishes to see you in the guidance office, take your things."

Great, what now, I swear I wasn't the one who toilet-papered the trees out front for senior prank day, she thought, picking up her books. I may have given the football team the idea to do that, but…oh well. At least she was getting out of math class. It was her least favorite subject. So was physics.

And history. Especially history. Not to mention home economics. She also didn't like English either.

Sophie walked by one of the mean girls she couldn't stand, who snickered behind her hand as she passed. "There goes Little Orphan Sophie," Lauren Winter cooed; her fellow 'popular' girls giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

You'd think in Dillon, Texas, who had more than one kid with a…different type of home, she wouldn't be considered a novelty, but for some reason kids still thought it was fascinating that she had no parents and lived with her brother. It backfired on more than one occasion, when people thought they could party at the house when Tim was out of town, which was rare, but…yeah no go. The last time she tried to do that, she'd been grounded for a month.

Plus, Lauren was just annoyed that the best dancer in Dillon refused to be on the cheerleader squad or in the Rally Girls.

I was a student intern for the New York City Ballet last summer and studied as part of a student program at the Bolshoi in Moscow for two months the year before New York; Dillon High School Rally Girl was like a skyscraper-size step down.

She collected her pass, walking by Lauren, smiling slightly. Sophie shifted her bag; her toe shoes were hanging from the side, the wooden toes perfectly lined up with Lauren's head.

As she stepped by, the she swung down, the shoes knocking into her; at the same time, Sophie dumped the cup of cold coffee she had in her hand, pouring it over Laurent's knockoff Prada backpack. "Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she exclaimed, ast he entire class began to laugh, while Lauren's minions scowled and gasped.

Lauren gaped up at her, eyes wide, horrified. "You bitch!"

"My bad!" Sophie said, grinning wide. She leaned down, still smiling, cocking her head. "You think you'd know by now Lauren. Don't mess with a Riggins." She straightened up, lifting her eyebrow. "Bitch."

"Ms. Riggins!" Mrs. Palermo exclaimed, as Lauren whipped her head, shouting for the teacher to say something. She pointed to the door. "You can stop at the principal's office on your way out of the guidance counselor's."

Yeah, whatever, that felt good.

Sophie smiled, waltzing out of the classroom. She grabbed her things from her locker; she planned on leaving school after whatever Aunt Tami wanted. Once she had her stuff, she went into Aunt Tami's office, flouncing down in a chair in front of the desk. "Hey Aunt Tami!"

"Hello there sweetheart!" Tami said, spinning around from her computer. She smiled quickly, an eyebrow lifting. "I just got off the radio with Mrs. Palermo, informing me to send you to the principal for hitting Lauren Winter in the head with your shoes?"

She flashed a quick smile, holding up the blue slip. "I got the pass," she said, setting it on the desk in front of her. "What's up?"

"We'll discuss Ms. Winter later, you know you need you use your words. We've had this discussion." Yes, they have had that discussion since she first moved to Dillon full time, when she was ten, and first met Lauren the bitch. Tami tossed her perfect hair from her face, a smile pulling wide on her face. "However, I called you out of class, because your brother called and he's excusing you from school for the rest of the day and your other brother is on his way from the field house to take you to the hospital, go meet him outside."

Hospital?

Why…oh my God!

Sophie shrieked, grabbing her bag and taking off out of the office, Tami laughing behind her, calling for her to walk and not run, she'd see her in a few hours. She didn't even hear most of it, skidding through the hall on her ballet flats, ignoring some of the teachers telling her to walk and not run.

She burst outside, running to Billy's truck, which screeched to a stop in front of the high school's main door. "Hurry up!" he yelled, waving his hand for her to get in the truck. "Seems like we're missing the big event!"

"I'm am hurrying up! Geez!" Sophie dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and fighting with her seatbelt, her heart lifting in her chest. She fumbled for her phone, calling her boyfriend, David. It rang a couple of times, going to a message. "Hey, it's me, look you can't come over tonight like we planned, because I'm going to be at Dillon Regional. Talk to you later!"

"Why was he coming over tonight? Did we know about this?" Billy demanded, spinning the steering wheel around and doing a U-turn in the parking lot, headed towards the street.

"No, you didn't know about it and yes, he was coming over to study. Get your mind out of the gutter Billy," Sophie snapped. Not really. David was coming over because she was supposed to have the house to herself. Maybe they'd study, but she had other plans in mind with her boyfriend.

If Tim and Billy thought she was this little virginal flower, they were sorely mistaken. They were close, but sometimes they still treated her like she was this little girl and not 17. They would get in so much trouble together though, before she ended up, well, growing up, so to speak.

Hell, what was it Mindy called the three of them when they were together? Sometimes she called them the Three Musketeers; it just depended on what they were doing.

Uncle Eric called them the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse. She knew there was one more, since there were Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; that Riggins had yet to come along.

She almost fell from the truck when it came to a stop in front of the hospital; Billy yelled at her to wait until he parked, but she didn't care, blowing by people to the elevator, hitting five, for the maternity floor. "Come on," she yelled at the elevator, urging it to go faster.

The minute the doors opened, Sophie was out like a bullet, giggling and not caring that she had to walk and be quiet. She fell against one of the admin desk. "Tim Riggins," she exclaimed, her hands clutching the side and her eyes wide. The dark hair she'd bound up in a French braid earlier for her morning dance classes was falling around her face from all the movement. She giggled. "Lyla Riggins, Garrity, something, what room are they in?"

"Hold on sweetheart, what's your relation to them?"

My relation? Daughter, sister, did it really matter?

"Sophie!"

Sophie whipped her head around, jumping in place for a few seconds before she took off, leaping and throwing her lithe 5'10" frame against her brother, almost knocking him into the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, like she was five years old. " Where are they?" she demanded, holding his face in her hands.

"Holy crap your nails are long, ow," Tim complained, trying to wrench her hand away from his face. He grinned wide, pointing. "Right there, room 503." He dropped her feet to the ground, still smiling. "Be quiet though when you go in there."

This was absolutely the best day of my life, she thought, letting go and walking into the room, peering around the corner and staring at her sister. Well, Lyla was almost like her mother. For the last two years she'd been at least.

I miss my mom, she thought idly; it was fleeting. She still thought of her sometimes, like this morning when she danced; but…missing her? That usually came at moments such as these, when the whole family gathered together to celebrate. Sophie barely had a memory of her; just this woman who was beautiful, but sick.

Very sad, that's mostly what she remembered.

She pushed thoughts of her mother out of her mind, walking to the edge of the bed, leaning over and staring at the bundle in Lyla's arms. "Oh wow," she whispered; she'd never seen a baby that little before.

It looked like a doll.

Lyla smiled up at her, looking like the most beautiful woman in the world; Sophie always envied her. Sometimes she felt like a bit giraffe, with her gangly legs and arms and the smile that try as she might, never quite reached her eyes. Lyla told her once, when she was moping about how some girls at school teased her about how she never really smiled, that it was just a Riggins trait; having that sometimes sad, melancholic look until something truly big and important came along.

"You guys don't waste your smiles on stupid things, you smile when you mean it, you laugh when you mean it. That could be for days on end or once in a blue moon," Lyla had told her, smiling while she said it. "And if those girls think that's what they can tease you about, well…they're just not worth your time."

Sophie took that as a bit of a compliment. To be included in the family. Riggins. Even if she wasn't really…it was just her name change, when Tim became her guardian.

Well I'm not sad and melancholy.

She wanted to touch, but kept her hands at her sides, looking at the baby. All in white, except for the pink hat. Pink! "A girl?" she asked, glancing over at Tim, who walked up to stand beside her. "Is it a girl?"

"No, it's a puppy."

"Shut up."

"Both of you," Lyla warned; her voice firm. She smiled, absolutely serene, lifting the baby up. "Careful," she breathed, guiding her into Sophie's arms. "Hold her head. There you go…oh, Tim get the camera."

"I lost it."

"You what?"

Sophie ignored their pleasant bickering; it had become just a part of her life these last couple years. She stared down at the baby, her finger touching the tiny little hands, wrapped up in mittens. There was slight bruising around her face and her lips were bright pink. There was a lock of dark hair peeking from beneath the pink cap.

So you're my…niece, Sophie thought, glancing out the corner of her eye at a rocking chair next to the window. She stepped towards it, very carefully lowering herself down into it and leaning back, keeping a tight hold on the infant. Who felt heavier than she expected.

Niece, huh, well…the lines between brother and father had been blurred over the years with both Tim and Billy. I can't remember my life before them, she thought, lifting her eyes to see Tim fussing around Lyla, tucking blankets around her and fluffing pillows behind her head, much to Lyla's silent amusement. I know that I had a life before all this, she thought. I have a real father, but…well, she had no interest in seeing him.

Tim was her father, for all intents and purposes. So was Billy.

My mom died when I was five, she thought, directing them towards the baby, like there was a telepathic communication line between them. Maybe there was, babies could sense things.

Besides, I want you to know everything, she thought, smiling down at her niece.

My mom died when I was five and then there was Mrs. Smith, her foster mother. She hadn't been able to think of her as Irene, who was one of her mom's close friends from working at the bakery in Austin together. She was always Mrs. Smith.

Until she was ten. That's when Tim went for custody and he got it and I've been here every since. And you're very lucky, she continued, touching her niece's nose. You're very lucky because Tim was a very good big brother. Dad. He didn't let her get away with as much as she thought she could.

It had been hard. Of course it had been hard, but for every challenge she directed towards him, wondering what it would take for him to get rid of her, he just put up with it, said that he'd done worse, she couldn't break him or make him get rid of her.

Oh my God, I remember when I got my period for the first time. That had been absolute mortification, with the two of them in that aisle in the drugstore. She'd finally just grabbed his wallet, taken out fifty bucks, and yelled at him to leave. She'd get Mindy to help her. He was relieved.

Mindy had kind of been her mother for a long time…so had Tyra, to a lesser extent. Tyra was cool; she let her do whatever she wanted, when she went to visit her in California. Then there was Lyla.

She remembered asking Tim a couple of times throughout the years about Lyla. He never talked about her, didn't have any photos of her up, and when she came to visit, usually at Christmas, she'd get shipped off to stay with Billy and Mindy. Then she was there after the custody hearing, when she was ten…the love of your life, she'd teased him, and to her they were Romeo and Juliet, without all that teenage suicide stuff.

After Lyla came back, 'indefinitely', they got married and she got to be the maid of honor; and then they said they were having a baby. She felt like she was going to get pushed away again, but nope, that hadn't been the case.

Now I'm an aunt! She wanted to shout from the rooftops. She was so happy for them.

You're very lucky, little No Name. I should probably ask what they're going to call you. Sophie smiled, tapping her nose again. You're lucky because you're going to have Tim and Lyla as your mom and dad. And…and Mindy and Billy and Tyra and all the other kids.

It's pretty crazy, she continued, hoping the baby understood. Or heard it, in some mystical way. At the very least, it was making her feel good to think about it. It's a very crazy life, but…I kind of wouldn't change it for anything. I pretty much live in a bar, when I'm not at school. We'll get you started on that. Your mom will teach you all the ropes with business…it's fun.

I'll teach you to dance, because when you'll be walking, I'm going to be at Julliard. Hopefully. She thought about her audition, which she had in a couple months. She had to keep preparing for that. It would happen; she knew it would happen.

Tim told her that she was the best he'd ever seen; of course, he said she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, the funniest, whatever he felt like saying to usually get her to do laundry for him. Even though she was technically the kid.

The best dancer; it started when I was six, she thought, telling the baby, silently. I was six and was acting out, so the social worker suggested that I start some sort of sport of activity. Mrs. Smith used to dance, so she put me in dance lessons.

And then Tim kept her in them, when she moved to Dillon, when she was ten. She woke up every single morning to practice religiously; your daddy is awesome, she thought, smiling down at the baby. He built me a barre and even put up mirrors and everything so I can really practice.

Two years ago he even let me study in Moscow for two months, took me out of school and everything, when I was 15. I'm that good. I'll teach you.

You've got some great parents; they'll let you do anything if it means following your dreams. Aunt Tyra will help you too; you can even go stay with her in California. She's got this movie star boyfriend who is super hot and doesn't want kids, so we're like her kids and she'll give you all the best advice in the world.

But your Mom and Dad…you're a very lucky kid, Sophie thought, smiling wide again. They're the best parents you could possibly have. I know.

"So what do you think?"

Sophie lifted her head, glancing at Tim and Lyla, who were both watching her; Lyla looked like she was crying. She smiled. "I think you guys made a good looking baby."

"Ew, Sophie, you can't just say she's cute?" Tim asked.

"No, I can't." Sophie got up from the rocker, carrying her niece back to Lyla, who took her back. She placed her hands on her hips, grinning. "So what's her name?"

Lyla and Tim exchanged a look. Sophie glanced at her brother, who met her eyes, smiling. "Her name is Anne," he whispered, taking the baby back into his arms, smiling over at her.

Something like…well like a little fire warmed inside of her. Anne.

"That was mom's name," she whispered, meeting her brother's eyes. They were the exact same as hers.

When she was younger and wondered where she belonged…sometimes she'd just sit in her room, in Austin, at Mrs. Smith's house, and look at a picture of her, Tim, Billy, and Anne. Someone had taken it, when she was five, when she'd first met Tim, at a part at the house.

Later, she'd come to learn that that was the party when her mother got sick and never came back from it; that that was the last time they were all together, with her mom actually standing.

She wasn't really allowed to see her, for the next few weeks. All she remembered, vaguely, was being brought into the room a couple of times, to kiss Anne's cheek and tell her she loved her. Then there was the one time, Billy carried her into the room and sat with her on the bed while she cried, knowing something was wrong and Billy telling her to say goodbye.

That was the last time.

Anne.

She smiled, glancing at the baby, whose eyes were open. They were hazel too. Well, they were kind of milky blue, but…she could see the bits of green in them from across the bed.

"Are you going to call her Annie or something?" she whispered.

"Yes, we are actually," Lyla said, smiling up at Tim. She touched Annie's hand, whispering. "It's a combination of her first and her middle name."

Oh? Sophie shrugged. "And what's her middle name?"

Tim grinned at her; there it was, she thought briefly, the smile that lit up his whole face. It had been almost a permanent fixture for a…well since she moved in with him. "Sophie. Her name is Anne Sophie Riggins."

After me?

She stood there for a few seconds, unsure what to…what to think. You named her after me? Wow…I…she smiled a little; slightly shaky. "Wow," she breathed, glancing at Lyla, who was crying again and then at the baby, who was back to sleeping again. All she could do was stutter like a complete moron. "Wow…you…me?"

Why me? I'm just…just Sophie.

I'm not…I'm just Sophie, she could only think.

"We wanted to name her after her grandmother," Lyla whispered, holding the baby again, smiling up at her, and breathing lightly. "And we wanted to name her after you, because…well…without either of you…coming into our lives…" She lifted her gaze to Tim, smiling, but somewhat sadder. "I'm not sure this little girl would exist."

Sophie smiled slightly, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Wow. That was…wow, well, that seemed to be the only word she could think of in this moment. She looked at Tim, who walked around the edge of the bed to come wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Thanks guys," she said, smiling. Grinning.

"There it is," Tim whispered, pinching at her cheek.

She slapped at his hand. I smile. Most of the time. "Whatever," she grumbled. She shifted on her feet, rolling her eyes, trying to shrug it off. It was getting too intense in here. She rolled her eyes, shifting on her feet, and her arms crossing over her chest. "I mean…whatever, you know, it's not a big deal, but…" She nibbled on her bottom lip, smiling again. "Thanks."

"You're such a teenager," Tim said, wrapping his arms around her, sighing. "You drive me crazy."

"I love you too," she giggled.

Lyla laughed. "The two of you are going to have your work cut out for you though, bringing this little one into all those weird inside jokes you guys have."

"We don't have weird jokes Garrity, we're brother and sister."

Sophie rolled her eyes. They had more than their fair share of inside jokes. Sometimes they could even talk to each other without having to talk. "Yeah, more like you're my dad, by the way, can I have twenty bucks?"

"Why?"

She lifted an eyebrow; he didn't need to know. He never needed to know. Tim grumbled, reaching into his pocket and unearthing a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, which she shoved into the pocket of her jacket. She wrapped her arms back around his neck, resting her cheek against her brother's. "I love you Tim," she whispered, like she used to do when she was really little and he'd let her come spend the night at his house.

Or even with Billy.

Tim grinned, returning the hug, swaying lightly with her. "Thank you."

Thank me? What did I do?

"More than you know," he replied, like he read her mind.

Yeah, I guess, she thought, smiling up at him, laughing. She danced on her toes back towards Lyla, climbing up into the bed beside her, nuzzling down into Annie's face, kissing her forehead. "So does this mean I can skip school for a few days to help you guys take care of her?"

"Absolutely not."

"Tim, I think we can let her off for at least a day."

Thank you Lyla, she thought, arching her eyebrows and crossing her eyes at Tim, who just stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed, her head resting against Lyla's, peering down at her little niece.

Sister, she thought briefly. Annie was more like her little sister.

As strange as that might be.

A few days later, she stood next to the grave with Tim, kneeling down and resting a small bouquet of pink wildflowers against it, to let her…know, so to speak, about Annie. Twelve years. Sophie stood, her arm wrapping around his waist and Tim kissed the top of her head.

She smiled, looking up at the sky. Thanks Mom.

"Come on," Tim said, sounding tired; well he should be, they all were, since Annie had come home from the hospital she hadn't stopped crying. "We better get back to the house before Lyla murders us."

"Actually I think I'm going to go spend the night with David."

"Hmm, I think you're going to get kicked out of the house if you do that."

"Hmm, I think you're being a hypocrite."

"And I think you're only 17."

They bickered back and forth to the car, until Sophie burst into giggles, glancing over her shoulder at the gravesite. She sat back, shaking her head, whispering. "Let's get home. It's my turn to feed the baby."

Tim nodded, turning the car on and reaching to squeeze at her hand. "Yeah."

"Let's go home."

**THE END**

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**A/N:**There is a sequel in the works, set five years after this story. No idea when it will be ready for posting, I generally wait until I have more than 50% of the story complete before I begin posting, so I don't get stuck in writer's block and leave people hanging. We'll see. Until then, thank you so much for all the reviews and I am so glad people enjoy this story. :)


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